Seeing the desire she felt reflected in his eyes, Torie felt an entirely different sort of shiver run through her. She realized that the ache in her chest was a want she had never dared to think too much about, but now that the moment was here, it grew to a point she couldn't ignore. Truthfully she didn't want to, despite knowing better, despite knowing it fixed nothing, she wanted him and for him to want her just as much.

Neither of them said anything, every opportunity shorter than the last as he moved in again, her head falling to the side to allow him more access. Each time she felt his lips touch skin, she felt more and more assured that this was what they needed. Surely he had to feel the hammering of her pulse? The heat on her skin? Had to know she wouldn't stop him?

She echoed his sigh, lashes fluttering open as his hands stilled, and she worried that would be it. Slowly she brought her hands to frame his face, breathing slower, but eyes still lit with possibility. Her throat was dry and she could hardly manage more than a whisper, but she locked her eyes on his so that he knew she meant it, "Please don't stop," Torie knew she couldn't handle the rejection again; it would break her beyond repair.

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Red again! June 1894

Anthony wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. Every possible combination of words tripped and tumbled over themselves in his brain, too short-circuited to properly process things. He wanted to tell Victoire how sorry he was, how stupid he’d been for not giving her qualms consideration, how painful this pretending to be alright all the time was, but in the end he couldn’t manage any of it. In the end, she pulled all possible oxygen from his lungs first.

Hands came to frame his face and Anthony looked between one blue eye and another, still impossibly caught on how beautiful a shade they were. The whisper that followed was like a yank against his heartstrings, some devilish little hand reaching straight into his chest and tugging on the instrument until the threads threatened to snap. How could he possibly deny her anything when she asked like that?

Making an impulsive decision, the brunette stood and gathered Torie into his arms. His legs ached from their crouched position but he hardly felt them as he collected her as easily as lifting a quill. From there, careful not to jostle the injured ankle too much, he moved closer to the hearth. At least here there was some small grace in a dusty, dirty carpet - one that did not by any stretch of the imagination deign to be worth enough to touch her dress, but he had no choice. Anthony settled the pretty redhead just there before the fire, already warmth peeling off and hitting his back from this distance. Once there, he settled on the ground next to her - slightly appalled at where his mind had instantly jumped - and now a bit abashed. Still, it was better than before. Awkwardly, Anthony tugged her dress into place so that he wouldn’t be tempted to hike it up unduly. “Er— this might be a bit more comfortable than those crates,” he managed as an excuse, voice gravelly from disuse and desire.

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Victoire Malfoy & muse song (it's especially fitting because tombé means fall lol)

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© darling MJ for this spectacular sight

He said nothing and again Torie worried she'd ruined it. As caught up in the moment as she was, Torie knew what she was doing, what she was asking for and as he lifted her from the crate as if she weighed little more than a pillow, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. She could still feel the dull throbbing in her ankle, but it was nothing compared to the ache sitting in the pit of her stomach.

As he gently set her down on the carpet before the fireplace, the flush returned to her cheeks full force when he joined her, realizing what was happening. Had she thought to grab her wand, she may have been able to transfigure something to make it more comfortable, but the afterthought hardly mattered. Her breathing had slowed, though she could still feel the flush and the rush across her body, especially where their skin had met.

She pouted slightly as he tugged her dress down, but tried not to think too much of it. Rolling onto her side to face him a little better and to scoot closer, she laid her head on one arm, looking up at him with that same heavy-lidded desire from a moment ago. Gingerly she reached out with her free hand, starting on his arm and running it up until she reached his handsome face once more. The urge to say something sat on the tip of her tongue, but she had no idea what to say or if it would ruin the moment and so the part of her lips fell silent as she took in the tousle of his hair and the expression on his face. She was being unfair to him and she knew it, but she never thought she'd have this chance again.

All she could hear was the storm outside and the fireplace behind her, both feeding the energy she felt within; all she could think about was him. Slowly she leaned in, kissing his jaw, then his cheek, before planting a whisper-soft kiss against his lips.

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Red again! June 1894

Everything from the feel of her wrapped around his neck to the weight of her in his arms did nothing to dissuade Anthony that he was in the wrong. He settled on the ground beside Ms. Torie, knowing full-well what his awkwardness confirmed, but somehow the intelligent, grounded part of his brain did nothing to switch back on. He swore she even frowned a touch as he tucked her dress neatly in place… If that didn’t mean something then he didn’t know what would.

Another shiver raked down the brunette’s spine as cool fingers danced up his arm. His shirt was still wildly damp and sticking uncomfortably in places, but Anthony didn’t mind so much now with the warmth of the fire there to help him dry out. The doe-eyed expression on his companion’s face indicted that she might even help too, not that Anthony imagined she could possibly mean that, or know what all was implied. He was still determined to be strictly gentlemanly… in so much as he could. There were lines still, obscured maybe, but they were here! Dancing around somewhere!

Thumb against his cheek, Ms. Torie kissing gently against his jaw, Anthony could almost forget about those lines. A soft breath escaped him: half surprise, half suppressed urges to press her back into the filthy carpet. He returned her sweet kiss with a forced leisure of his own. Perhaps, if they went no further than this, it would be alright yet. Anthony let his eyes settle closed, comforted by that thought, and languished in kissing Ms. Torie to his heart’s content. She was so soft, so fragile, so perfect. It was hard not to press for more, even as one hand came to settle at her waist. He tugged her closer unwittingly, and pulled her lower lip gently into his mouth. All the better to distract himself from even thinking about undoing any of those iron-clad buttons.

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Victoire Malfoy & muse song (it's especially fitting because tombé means fall lol)

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© darling MJ for this spectacular sight

The tone had changed, found some measure of restraint and Torie wasn't sure if she was relieved or frustrated by that. The passion of a moment ago, the urgency, had settled into something softer, though no less meaningful and Torie had to adjust accordingly. Despite crossing some lines, she couldn't quite tell if he wasn't willing to hurdle over the last few or if he was trying to regain some semblance of being a gentleman. Torie was the novice here, going purely on instinct and following his lead, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't want more.

The rush returned as he pulled her close, and she shifted in as far as she could, body flush against his. Her lips parted in a silent sigh, daring to push the intensity back to where it was with a swipe of her tongue over his. Hands sliding up into his hair, she tangled her fingers in gently at first, but the urge to pull him down to the carpet with her won out and she unconsciously gave a harder tug in that direction.

She had to come up for air, a sharp intake the only sound she could muster before it turned into something else entirely. His name left her lips in a whisper as arched her back to press her body to his once more, craving the heat and the pressure.

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Red again! June 1894

He should have known this was never going to be as easy as a few meager kisses and that would be that. How could it be when he felt as he did about Ms. Torie Malfoy? It was bloody agony, is what it was. To be a starving man offered a whole plate of food and only pick off a few crumbs? He didn’t know how much longer he was going to manage. It was with this thought that her small form pressed flush against his tweaked some part of the brunette’s brain. Anthony didn’t know what had happened but he about surrendered when her energy seemed to shift with an urgency of its own. Tongue lapsing over his, hands moving into his head and leading him overtop— there was no other option but to follow where his red headed siren led and finally, the dam broke. He didn’t protest. He didn’t even hesitate.

Grip tightening around the girl’s waist, Anthony shifted to veritably crawl over her as Ms. Torie leaned back. She was even smaller from this vantage point, but certainly not as fragile as he’d imagined. She was solid and whole, determined even with her fingers still tangled in his hair as he eased himself overtop. Dress ruffling in the process, his damp shirt undoubtedly leaving marks, Anthony felt himself move with more decision. The hand that wasn’t wrapped around Torie’s waist had come to cradle her head as she leaned back. Now it slid gently from her hair to her cheek, thumb grazing her jawline, and continued moving down her neck and across her chest. He almost hesitated as he reached her bosom, the fabric and buttons there an obvious warning off, but Anthony persevered. He began to undo the buttons slowly, carefully, determined to give Torie every opportunity to stop him if she so pleased.

It was then that his name slipped from her vocals as they parted, a sweet, breathless little sound. Everything about it drove straight through him, a nail in the figurative coffin, perhaps. Anthony huffed a small growl and pressed his hips down against her without even thinking what he was doing.

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Victoire Malfoy & muse song (it's especially fitting because tombé means fall lol)

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© darling MJ for this spectacular sight

She had managed to tip the scales back to where they had been, the urgency, the rush hitting her like a wave as Anthony slid over her. She smiled to herself, but had a hard time relishing in her victory, as she felt his hands moving down her body, working at the buttons of her dress with deft fingers.

There was zero desire to stop him as she moved her own hands to help, starting at the bottom of her bodice, determined to lose it as quickly as possible. The less layers between them, the better, in her opinion. Of course she was thoroughly distracted by the press of his hips to hers, and she bit her lip to stifle the moan that followed. Her buttons were finished with renewed vigor and she lifted her shoulders from the ground to pull it off and toss it away. With that sorted, she briefly hesitated between the hooks of her corset or the buttons of his shirt, hands going to the former on their own accord. It was the most uncomfortable piece by far and once that was gone, it would only be her chemise and skirts between them. Once that joined her bodice, she pulled him down for a searing kiss, all of the frenzied energy poured into it.

Merlin why did women wear so many damn layers?

Annoyed by a jab to the back of her head, Torie reached around and pulled out the one long pin holding her hair back, letting the tresses fall free, hands too frantic to settle anywhere for long. They roamed over his shoulders, along his sides and back, the wet fabric of his shirt a stark contrast to everything else, so she gave it a harsh tug to free it from his skin. This had an inevitable direction now and she neither cared, nor hesitated.

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Red again! June 1894

The moment her nimble fingers joined his to undo the buttons along her bodice, Anthony knew without a doubt she was as invested in this moment as he was. It both excited and worried him, the brunette’s first thought being her reputation once again. Before Anthony could properly think through that implication however, Torie was lifting gently off the ground and tossing her bodice aside. The sight of a tightly strapped corset once again jarred him into action. God, how he hated them. They always looked so bloody painful and for what? Fashion? Victoire was beautiful regardless. She didn’t need whalebones or whatever attempting to suffocate her to death for his benefit. Or bloody well anyone else’s for that matter! (Anthony didn’t hesitate to rip the last few hooks loose with a little less care than he might have otherwise employed as the thought of ‘anyone else’s benefit’ swam like a nasty taunt in the back of his mind.)

The urgent kiss that followed settled some of his possessiveness, and Anthony answered it with a dominance all his own. He hated the thought of anyone else even looking in Victoire’s direction, much less one day taking these kinds of liberties with her. As she moved to pull out a hair pin, his hands instinctively moved to undo the front buttons of his own shirt. The dampness was starting to irritate him, clammy and wet as it was. Her small fingers assisted the final effort to tug the thing off and at last, Anthony paused - hands on either side of her head - just long enough to to take in the sight beneath him.

Long red hair curling loose along the dirty floor. A flush that stretched across her cheeks and down her neck, possibly even to the fair skin beyond. Heaving chest, still covered thankfully, but panting in a way that was obvious, with pupils blown wide— Torie was the picture of one of his nightmares come to life, the temptation that would undoubtedly sink them both. This was all spiraling out of control much more quickly than he’d anticipated, but in that moment, Anthony wasn’t sure he wanted to stop it. He wanted… to apologize. For this, maybe, but also for the way he’d treated her then. Was it selfish to want to translate that into one unforgettable morning in which he only went so far as to satisfy the need she had and keep himself at bay?

Yes. Undoubtedly.

It was incredibly uncouth, and would ruin her regardless.

Fingers curled into the fabric of her chemise and Anthony kissed with the desperation of an undecided sinner who had no instruction of which way to go. If his thumb rubbed absently over her nipple through the thin material, it was entirely an accident. One that he repeated again and again.

“Torie…” Her name escaped him in a desperate plea, a question that was trying to formulate. “We shouldn’t do this,” he forced himself to say. A shock, even to Anthony himself. “I can’t— I don’t want to hurt you again.” Because she had to know how much this would hurt. Her reputation couldn’t suffer it, and neither would he ask her to. There was a proper way of doing things!

And with that, the reality hit him like a bucket of ice to the head. Anthony let out a shaky breath and eased his weight onto one elbow, removing his traitorous hand from atop her. Blue hues danced miserably as he looked down into porcelain features, hoping against hope she wouldn’t be angry or upset. He didn’t stray far, granted, still pressed over her as he was, almost hoping she disagreed. But the gentlemanly drive to stop had worked it’s way back up through his senses. He wanted to say so much more, to ask her to court him, to marry him for bloody sake! Right now, even! But that was just guilt and arousal speaking. He owed her more than that.

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Victoire Malfoy & muse song (it's especially fitting because tombé means fall lol)

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Torie chuckled at the vehemence with which or corset was disposed of, but it didn't last long, possessive hands roaming in turn, eliciting a gasp every time somewhere new was touched. The intensity of each movement, each kiss wound her up tighter and tighter until he leaned back and everything came crashing down.

She heard him, of course she did, but it was hard to understand now; what had changed? Had she done something wrong? Did he not want to? Did he not want her? The contrast of just a minute ago to now was so stark she felt like she'd been slapped. Oh Merlin she felt like a such a fool! Color of a different variety flooded her cheeks now as she leaned back, hands coming to rest across her chest in some vain attempt at modesty. Embarrassment clouded over the desire and she didn't know what to do. She couldn't move, couldn't exactly get out of the situation gracefully, she was stranded and she felt like an idiot.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes and she blinked them back. There was no coming back from this, she couldn't be made the fool twice, she had her limits. As much as she cared for him, as ready as she was to throw caution to the wind and give up any shred of doubt she'd had, she was overcome with nothing but doubt now. As much as she tried to play the confident debutante who had it all together, underneath it all, she was far too insecure for her own good; this had shattered even the outward appearance. She took a steadying breath, lips pressed together against the mixed emotions. Running her hands over her face, she fought for something to say, but couldn't figure out exactly what would work.

Deflated, she sighed finally, "Fine. I just need to..." She motioned for her discarded clothes and tried to scoot out from beneath him.

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Red again! June 1894

The moment in which he spoke seemed to stretch endlessly as Anthony gazed down into that perfect face. He saw - almost as if in slow motion - Ms. Torie’s brow pinch in confusion and then complete and utter mortification as her situation came back into focus. His heart leapt directly into his mouth and Anthony wished he could swallow it all back. He didn’t want to upset her. He definitely didn’t want to force that look on her face. Not again, not after what he’d learned the first time. Hands came up to cover her bosom fruitlessly and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes which from this distance were impossible to miss. Anthony didn’t know what to say. Words tripped over themselves is his mind and his mouth opened to communicate them but nothing came out.

It wasn’t until Ms. Torie finally seemed to compose herself, hands running frustratedly over her face, that Anthony realized. It was so obvious. “I’m sorry,” he forced out, quickly. The words were rushed and flustered, but all of a sudden he couldn’t stop them. “Please Torie, listen.” Already she was trying to scoot out from under him and flee. One hand came out to stop her, wrapping gently around her fingers, while the other continued to hold him upright. Despite knowing he ought to let her go easily, Anthony didn’t. He didn’t move a fraction from overtop; if she wanted to get away she’d have to give him a right shove.

“Please,” the brunette said again. “Let me explain!” Blue eyes danced back and forth, determined. “I’m sorry for being an ass. I should have stopped to listen to you on New Year’s Eve. I should have asked, I should have doubted my own assumptions. You don’t know how much it’s tortured me since! I—” he paused to bite his lower lip, hand loosening on hers marginally. His tone softened, nervousness beginning to creep into his expression. “I had meant to ask you that evening if… if you’d entertain courting me, seriously, with the intention of marriage. The realization that there could possibly be anyone else just…” He didn’t finish the statement, unsure exactly where it was going. He’d always known that there was a possibility of Basil and Victoire but seeing it like that, well…

“Please forgive me,” he pleaded quietly. “I just… I want to do this right. I don’t want us to make a mistake and then you realize, in a few weeks, that you actually can’t stand my terrible sense of humor.” He cracked a half smile, not enough for his dimple to show. “I couldn’t stand it if we jumped over this precipice and I ever did anything to hurt you like that again.”

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Victoire Malfoy & muse song (it's especially fitting because tombé means fall lol)

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© darling MJ for this spectacular sight

Torie desperately needed space, to redress, to try and salvage some of her dignity, if it was even possible. What an absolute, utter fool she was!

He held her there and Torie was tempted to elbow him in the nose to get him to move. Nothing he said made any sense, her judgement clearly clouded or maybe she didn't believe him. She thought that had been what she wanted to hear, that he was wrong, that he'd made a mistake, but all Torie could understand was that he didn't listen. Ever.

The frustration bubbled up and with it her determination to get up and get some physical distance between them. Pulling her hand from his as the grip loosened, she then used both hands to shove him to the side, tugging her skirts roughly with her. She was on her feet in an instant, momentarily forgetting the fact that her ankle was badly sprained, possibly broken, and she took one step on the bad foot before crashing into a nearby crate, just managing to catch herself before she hit the floor again. The edge of the crate bit into her leg and would no doubt leave another bruise to accompany her ankle. She bit her lip to contain the curse and manage the pain, but it hurt, almost as much as her pride. "Don't," She warned, tone icy, hoping to cut him off before he invaded her space again.

Her nails dug into her palm, overwhelmed by the embarrassment and frustration. This time she knew exactly what to say and as she stood again, weight shifted to the good side, her hands nimbly tied up her skirts, tighter than they had been before she reached for her corset. If her wand wasn't so far away she would have cheated and used that, but she couldn't go hobbling around and hollering at him at the same time. "Tortured you?" She spat, tossing her long waves over her shoulder as she started on the hooks, noting the bottom few were bent out of shape. "I will not be made a fool of again. I have begged and pleaded and thrown myself at you and yet here we are again, with your assumptions. Do you listen? Do you hear me? Yourself? Merlin's beard." She was good and riled up now, all of the frustration and the disappointment and the heartache pouring out now.

"There has never been anyone else!" Nor would there be. She'd been spoiled for any future match, even if she wasn't technically ruined; she would never feel like this about anyone ever again. She rounded on him now, corset hooked, reaching for her bodice to shove her arms through the sleeves. "Do you think me incapable of making my own choices? Of speaking my own mind? Why else would I even be here?" Was he really that dense? Torie busied herself with the buttons of her bodice, steam practically coming from her ears.

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The following 1 user Likes Victoire Malfoy's post:1 user Likes Victoire Malfoy's post
   Anthony Alderton

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Red again! June 1894

The look on the redhead’s face contorted from confusion to outright anger the more Anthony spoke, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to shut up. She needed to know what he’d been thinking! Now that it was all pouring out, he was desperate for there to be truth, honesty even. It had to be better than this icy tension between them. She shoved him off however and Anthony frowned, rolling to the side, as Victoire skittered away from him like a bee in a shaken jar. The following few seconds were painful, even for him, as she bolted up and then crashed noisily into one of the crates. He sprung up after her to help but froze a good distance away as she nailed him to the floor with her tone.

Words finally began to flow and Anthony frowned, brow pinched in confusion, as he tried to follow what she was saying. Assumptions? What assumptions? That she didn’t want to be made into spoiled goods?! Wasn’t that supposed to be every man’s assumption of women? Anthony felt his defensiveness rise but he held his tongue, waiting for her to finish. In the end, he realized she was more offended about being ignored, of having decisions made on her behalf, than she was about being potentially ruined and he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it.

“Of course I don’t,” the brunette responded, trying to keep any heat from his tone. “But you have to understand, I don’t— I’m not—“ He ran a hand through dark curls in frustration. I’m not that kind of man, seemed just so pretentious to actually say! And he didn’t want her thinking he assumed she was, either. “I want to make sure we’re on the same page is all!” Well at least that much was true. “What would you have done if I went through with it? If I ruined you right here just like that, without a single thought to either of our futures?” He gestured to the spot on the filthy carpet they’d just been sprawled across. “You bloody well know I wouldn’t walk away without claiming responsibility!” And there was the bubbling anger from before, making itself known. “Would you marry me, Victoire?” He demanded. “Without even knowing a single thing about who I really am?”

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Victoire Malfoy & muse song (it's especially fitting because tombé means fall lol)

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© darling MJ for this spectacular sight

The exasperated, "Yes!" Came without hesitation. It was resounding and unequivocal; it left no room for misunderstanding. She almost added you idiot! but managed to contain it.

Torie ran her hands through her hair, frustration leaking out from every movement. Did he truly think that she would open herself up like that if she didn't want to marry him? Did he think her a harlot who just went around seducing men in the woods? What was she even doing here? They were clearly on very different pages, maybe not even in the same book anymore. It hit hard after everything that had transpired in the last few minutes. Or took some of the wind out of her sails. The exhaustion and the defeat were clear in her stance and expression, some of the fire extinguished from her.

"But I don't want to be your responsibility if that's all you think of marriage, I have no interest in that." Her tone had less bark to it, more resigned. This was a mistake. She had made a fool of herself for the last time.

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Red again! June 1894

Yes. The word resounded between them with a finality Anthony didn’t like. His brow pinched again, nose wrinkling in disagreement, and he straightened imperceptibly. That was not the answer he’d been expecting, or wanted. Was she so desperate to marry that any man would do? The question hung sharp and rude on the tip of his tongue. It stung to think he could be just anyone to her and that she’d jump regardless. Maybe he had misjudged Ms. Torie Malfoy.

Still, Anthony was determined not to let this argument - this potential misunderstanding (he’d give her the benefit of the doubt, she’d just been through quite an ordeal) - be the cause of any more angst between them. When they parted here, he wanted to be very clear on where he stood in this whole situation. “I don’t,” came the gruff response. “In fact quite the opposite.” Arms came up to cross over his chest. “I’ve only ever wanted to marry for love, unlike most. I respect boundaries and try not to make fools of the women in my life.” Hence why he’d refused to ruin her here. “I want to marry someone because I can’t imagine my life without them anymore, because they make me a better version of who I am. Not merely because I have to, to save them from the cruelty of our society.” Even though I would, remained unsaid but understood.

Anthony Alderton, perhaps uniquely from other gentlemen, could respect the implications of being a woman in this age. He often thought of Tillie and his cousins, the complaints and hardships they sometimes faced. He didn’t ever want to be the cause of those or force anyone into anything merely because he had the privilege of being born male. He eyed Victoire for a moment, hoping she could at least understand that much. He meant no ill will, regardless of what she might think.

“I don’t want to marry someone I don’t know, or who doesn’t know me,” he finally said, voice quiet and all the anger from it dissipating. “I don’t care what society expects. I want to be in love with the whole person, not just an idea or a feeling.” He sucked in a small breath and dared to take a step closer in her direction but didn’t reach out. “What do you want, Victoire?”

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Victoire Malfoy & muse song (it's especially fitting because tombé means fall lol)

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© darling MJ for this spectacular sight

Too late. She thought bitterly as he said he he tried not to make a fool of the women in in life. Twice already she had been completely and utterly embarrassed by him. Which was an unfair thought, she was partly to blame, but it felt twisted somehow, all backwards and out of sorts

Torie forced herself to listen to what he had to say, the rest of the fight leaving her as she sighed, shoulders drooping. Was it really not obvious? Could he really not know how she felt about him? He stepped closer and she didn't move, watching him carefully.

Biting her lip, she realized she was relieved; his honesty dissolving some of her fears. She took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to articulate what she wanted to say. "I want all of that too, and I want it with you," at the very bottom of it, that was it. "I hope that would have been obvious by now." Her voice was quiet, but steady. "I wouldn't try so hard for just anyone, Anthony. Wouldn't show this side, or entertain the idea of vaulting over every boundary that could possibly ruin me, for anyone but you." Whatever he thought of her, of what she'd been willing to allow, he had to know that much.

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Red again! June 1894

The silence was tense as Anthony waited with bated breath for the redhead to respond. He was keyed up now, determined to put things right. If the only way to make sense of all of this again was to pour his heart out into a teacup and offer it to her, then by Merlin that’s what he’d do! The fear that she might take one look and turn her nose up at it however was strong. Strong enough that he had to run his fingers through his hair impatiently to keep from fidgeting.

When she finally did speak, it was a relief not to hear some blasé response like ‘I want to go home’ or anything. Torie was taking this conversation seriously and that gave him hope that they might still salvage something in the wreckage that had been wrought. It was a bit of a surprise to hear that it should have been obvious to him that she wanted these things too. Anthony wasn’t sure if he was just that much of a dolt or if she’d ever actually made any intention clear to him? She hadn’t at least since New Years, but he supposed perhaps before that, but then Basil—

When the words anyone but you finally fell into the space between them, he was jolted out of that destructive thought pattern. She wouldn’t try so hard for just anyone. That definitely meant something! Anthony wasn’t so much of an idiot not to see it now. His heart rate picked up a clip; he let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding; he took another step closer, this time coming to pause just in front of the girl, eyes slightly wild with hope. “Then agree to court me!” He demanded. “Let me do this correctly.” He tentatively reached for both her hands. “Let me get to know you, let me spend time with you just ambling around in the light of day where everyone and anyone can see us so that I can make good on this promise. I want to marry you, Victoire. Someday,” A crooked little smile pulled at his cheek, sheepish and teasing as the word ‘someday’ hung playfully between them. He meant it though. Anthony did want to marry Ms. Torie. He just wanted to make sure they both knew what that meant, if they were even really compatible, first.

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Victoire Malfoy & muse song (it's especially fitting because tombé means fall lol)

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© darling MJ for this spectacular sight