Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Complete a thread started and set every month for twelve consecutive months. Each thread must have at least ten posts, and at least three must be your own.
Did You Know?
Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
Hanna sat down on Hudson's bed and stared at the cracked door, shaking. She really couldn't hear any of their voices. Once the shakes had abated — not entirely, because they were the sort of thing that only a good puzzle could really take away from her, but the edge of her panic was gone — she started looking around. Hudson's bedroom was slightly disheveled in a way that she had not seen it before. She stood up and began to poke around, but it was only when she looked at his open dresser drawer that she found something interesting. She began reading through them, because they were clearly notes from a past lover, and clearly treasured if they were kept. She skipped the ones that didn't feel as interesting to her, because some of these were truly salacious — imagine, a poem about a cock! Hanna had now seen one, the same one that the poem likely described, but she still could not imagine writing a poem about it.
It was not until she found a letter that had 2/10 in the top line that her brow furrowed with curiosity. She'd assumed, despite the clunky handwriting, that these were letters from a woman — but this letter was very clearly describing men having sex with men.
A man having sex with Dean.
Some of the letters had been signed DJD. Mind whirring, Hanna tucked them back where she'd found them and sat down, hard, on Hudson's bed — her face was flushed a warm pink.
Don Juan let out a short, incredulous laugh. Dean was going to take her home? Did he hear himself? How was he going to explain that to her when Don Juan was theoretically no one of particular importance, probably no one he had ever mentioned in the entire time they had been together (indeterminate length, but long enough that she was comfortable arriving in a nightgown)? Unless Don Juan was going to fabricate some sort of emergency, it wasn't going to work — and even then he would probably make a good deal of trouble between Dean and this woman, if Hudson dropped their planned night together in favor of babysitting a 'friend' who couldn't keep his shit together.
"Hudson, be serious," he said with a shake of his head. "You're not taking her home. You're going to go lie to her so she doesn't get suspicious about why I was here. We're not talking tonight. That's just how it is." His tone was resigned. He edged to the side, trying to see if there was enough room to squeeze past Dean to the floo if he approached it from another angle. Not quite. He chewed his lower lip, then volunteered tentatively, "I'll still be sober next time you see me."
In case Hudson was worried about it. Based on past history, Don Juan leaving this house disappointed and ending up not-sober in very short order was a real concern.
Dean frowned, brows furrowed. He didn't like the sound of that at all. "I am being serious. I don't think you're giving me— or Hanna enough credit." This wasn't that deep. Hanna was his friend, they sometimes screwed around in the bedroom, at her request, so that she could learn a thing or two, it wasn't anything like what he'd had with Don Juan. Not really. It was different, and it was important to him, but not on the same level.
Watching Don Juan try to skirt around him had him changing tactics. "Be honest. If you leave now, will you come back tomorrow?" There was some strange edge to the conversation that had Dean doubting it. Hanna would understand. She would come back tomorrow if he asked her to give him the time tonight. Tonight had been his idea, but how was he supposed to know what would be waiting at home for him? He wouldn't send her off if she really needed the distraction. Hopefully whatever had been bothering her tonight could be figured out tomorrow. Being in the middle meant it was his responsibility to figure it out, but somebody had to give him some leeway here.
Tomorrow was a tall order. Don Juan had been prepared to have the conversation tonight, but that had been based on the facts as he knew them. He hadn't anticipated Hanna, a flabbergast woman in her nightgown whom Hudson had immediately been protective of. He needed more than a few hours to unpack the way Hudson had stepped in front of her like a shield. It didn't seem casual from his perspective, but he needed time to think. If it wasn't casual, then Hudson's offer to take her home didn't make much sense either. (If it wasn't casual Don Juan was a little disappointed in Hudson for the way he was talking about her. He'd been caught in the act with someone before, after all, and while admittedly that one hadn't worked out splendidly for anyone involved, Don Juan could say what he would have done in Hudson's shoes based on more than idle speculation.)
The root of it was that he didn't want to come back tomorrow if it was only to hear that the answer was no. The answer to the question he hadn't asked but which Hudson knew was the only possible reason for his being here: will you take me back? If the answer was no, he'd rather skip whatever Dean wanted to say about it to try and make him feel better. I'm so proud of you, et cetera. He didn't need to hear any of that. He especially did not need or want a history of the relationship Dean had started to replace him.
"I don't know," he said. "I need time to think about it. But I am leaving," he insisted stubbornly. "And if you won't let me through the floo I'll go out the front and walk to bloody Ireland."
Dean felt like he wasn't going to be able to many anyone, let alone everyone, happy here. "I'll show up at the estate in Galway," he threatened. Tonight, tomorrow, either, both. He'd been there, gone through the floo, knew exactly which room he ended up in. He wasn't above that right now if Don Juan was going to be stubborn about it. What could he need time to think about? Had Hanna's appearance been that jarring? Would his situation with her be that big of an issue?
"Five minutes. I just need five minutes." He didn't move away from the hearth, but took another half-step toward Don Juan. "And then I'm all yours." Hanna did deserve some sort of explanation if he was going to ask her to go, but he didn't want Don Juan to leave with this unsettled air between them. Dean thought they would want the same thing here and he'd already been hopeful, but now he wasn't sure. He'd already been the one to break in the past, to push to try again, maybe the third time would be the charm? Nothing had truly changed for him. Why would it be any different this time?
Hudson threatening to follow him home warmed him, despite how conflicted he still felt about the unexpected turn of events. He had always had something of a weakness for grand romantic gestures, especially stupid ones, and bursting in to his family's home to demand an audience was colossally stupid.
That said, he had less than no desire to get himself in the middle of Hudson's other relationship — more than he already had, anyway. Hudson wanted five minutes, but Don Juan doubted it would be confined to that. He'd told the woman he just had one question for Don Juan, and now he was blocking the floo and arguing over whether Don Juan was allowed to leave. However long the conversation took, what was Don Juan meant to do in the mean time? Wait here and try not to make eye contact with her while she fled the room in her nightgown? Hide in the kitchen and pretend he wasn't listening in when they said their goodbyes? He already felt like an interloper here — not a pleasant or expected feeling, in a house he had once been so comfortable in. He didn't need to feel like a spy as well.
He shifted his weight to his other foot, considering. "You can follow me," he eventually offered. With the mess of hot water he was in after Christmas, having a friend floo in on a Saturday night and taking a room or walking through the garden was hardly going to raise any eyebrows. He could wait in the parlor at home so that no one else caught Hudson at the floo before he did. He would certainly be more comfortable waiting there then waiting here. "Take as much time as you need."
The knot of uncertainty that had taken up residence in his chest loosened a little when Don Juan conceded to letting him come to the estate. It wouldn't be as private as he would have hoped for, not like here, but he supposed he could understand wanting a bit of separation. He still wasn't sure what exactly was going to happen or what he was going to do, but he did need to hear what it was that Don Juan wanted to discuss and then maybe he could have a better overall picture to decide what to do.
"Alright," he agreed, breathing out to let a little of the apprehension leave his body. "I won't be long." He assumed. Dean could figure out how to explain himself well enough not to hurt Hanna's feelings. He hoped anyway. Dean reluctantly moved away from the floo, looking over his shoulder before he climbed the stairs two at a time.
Outside the door he took a deep breath and steadied himself. He had to steady himself, to put on a different frame of mind. Oddly enough, he didn't handle Don Juan and Hanna too differently, more gently most of the time, with more patience than he often graced most people with, but he had to reconfigure his brain to figure out what to say here. He took another ten seconds to gather his thoughts, pushing into the room to find Hanna perched on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry about that," because he was. This had been his idea for her to come over, to help distract her from whatever it was that was bothering her, but he hadn't done a very good job in the end. It didn't sit very well with him and it left him torn.
He took a seat next to her on the bed and nudged her gently. "I really hate to have to do this, but I'm going to have to reschedule tonight." Not cancelled, he wasn't sure that was the answer, but he needed a day or two to figure out Don Juan first before he could figure out what to do here. "Unforeseen circumstances, as I'm sure you could tell." The understatement of the century.
Hanna had expected to have a little bit more time to process, even though Hudson had already been gone for a few minutes. She looked at him and returned his nudge. Hanna was going to have to have more time to think about this before she found something to say. She did not think she had the right to feel betrayed, because they were doing things strictly casually, but
She unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. "It's alright," she said, purposefully trying to keep her tone normal. "Bit of a shock, is all — I'll see you soon?"
set by Bee
February 7, 2025 – 10:42 PM
Last modified: February 9, 2025 – 9:39 PM by Dean Hudson.
Dean was caught between two things that he desperately wanted to do; figure out what was up with Don Juan and be here for Hanna, but he was only one person and he couldn't be in two places at once.
"It's not alright," he disagreed gently, but was still a little relieved she was being easygoing about this, even if he thought it was just for appearance's sake. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." Once he wrapped his head around what else was going on tonight, he would figure this out. "Bit of a shock for me too, it's been a while since I've seen him." Over a year now and though he couldn't explain to Hanna why it was important he take care of this tonight, he hoped that he could figure out how to give her a better explanation eventually.
"I will make it up to you," he reiterated. "Whenever and however you like." Dean was usually pretty good at that, anyway.
A while since Hudson had seen him, but Dempsey's letters sat neatly in his dresser. Hanna swallowed. She wanted to leave before he noticed that the dresser was open; she had not originally opened the drawer, but she was not sure she would be able to lie if he asked if she'd gone into things. She swallowed around the upset in her throat, trying to stifle it. "We'll figure something out," Hanna said, with a gentle smile. "Send me a note."
That way it was up to him, to confirm that this was still on — even if Hanna was half-convinced she'd misread everything about this. If it had been a while since he'd last seen Don Juan, maybe she had been — a placeholder.
Dean had a sinking feeling he'd fucked this up. He could very well fuck up whatever conversation he was about to have with Don Juan too and then he would completely fucked. It was a strange sensation, to want to put two people's wants and needs above his own, but Dean wasn't exactly surprised by himself, either. This was a train of thought for a later time when he could sit behind his desk with a deep glass of whiskey and contemplate his life choices.
"I will," he promised. Dean was not careless with his words or his promises. He had learned his lesson in the past with that.
There wasn't much more he could say, not without starting a conversation that he couldn't finish now, so he stood slowly and held out a hand for Hanna. When they were back downstairs in front of the floo, Dean hesitated for a moment. It felt wrong to send her home like this, but he had no choice right now.
Dean turned to face her slowly, bringing one hand up to cup her jaw. He leaned in and kissed her softly, hoping this wasn't goodbye.
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