5 August 1895 - moonlight ball, Wellingtonshire

The polyjuice potion had slid down his throat like molten glass – thick and searing, enough to make it feel like he was choking the moment it hit his stomach. He’d dropped the glass to the floor with a clatter, clutching his chest as he too, dropped beside it, staring at the droplets at the bottom of the vial.

And then it had begun –

A sickening crack. Then another. Fingers jerked and curled. His spine arched as bones shifted, ribs collapsing and pushing as a new shape formed. His skin burned, tightening and stretching, rippling across his bones like there was something moving beneath it. He thought he might retch all over the floor, thought he might die, but somehow he managed to survive.

It hadn’t been pleasant, becoming Timoleon Maxime, but it had been worth it for the money the man had paid him. Todd Halbrook was a mere footman, but his wife was pregnant and the money would go a long way to helping them provide for their growing family.

He was still on all fours when Maxime appeared. It was weird knowing that their faces were identical.

“Get up!” Maxime snapped, and Todd, ever obedient, scrambled to his feet. His body ached. “You’ll stay for an hour, two at most.” The man was saying like they hadn’t already gone over the rules a hundred times. Todd subserviently nodded his head. “You don’t dance. You may hold a drink. Sip it. You don’t smile. You nod, you say as little as possible, and you leave before the potion breaks.”

Maxime leaned in close, baring his teeth. “Don’t speak to anyone who doesn’t speak to you, and if you fuck this up, I will kill you.”
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So now he stood in the Mulciber’s home, wearing a waistcoat that felt too tight and boots that pinched at the heel. Todd’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest, a scowl that hopefully mimicked Maxime’s on his face. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since he’d gotten here, and well, he was probably lucky that the man didn’t have too many friends who were keen on approaching him for small talk.

Todd had stationed himself near the edge of the ballroom, just far enough that he could keep his features half-shrouded lest the potion wear off before he expected it to. He didn't dare move. Didn’t even know what to do with his mouth – did Maxime ever smile? He couldn't recall, so Todd just clenched his jaw until it ached. The less approachable he looked, the easier tonight would be.

(The money was worth it, he kept reminding himself.)

But then the room shifted under his feet. One moment he was near the ballroom wall, and the next he was elsewhere, nudged gently into a smaller, adjoining chamber. Before he could even think about what had happened, someone else joined him in the room.

Todd inhaled sharply as he straightened his back. Please don’t speak to me.

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Estelle Malfoy // Elias Grimstone

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The following 3 users Like NPC's post:3 users Like NPC's post
   Aldous Crouch, Basil Foxwood, Estelle Malfoy

“What are you playing at?” Estelle hissed, whirling up to him (and by it, unceremoniously breaking her promise never to speak to him again) when she found herself in another room with him. “What do you want?”

She presumed he had done this on purpose, pulled her magically into some side room to toy with her again.

(She had recovered from her bout of illness in the spring well enough by now to feel herself in society again – she had been more subdued, a month or two back, until she had been sure her secrets were not plain to read – but Estelle would have shown her face at this event no matter how terrible she had been feeling.

Better than being thought a werewolf, anyway.)

So perhaps she had broken her promise earlier by acknowledging him ever so slightly, her gaze accidentally alighting on him across the room. Only for long enough to note that Timoleon Maxime was here; only to note whether or not he was looking at her. She hadn’t seen him since, after all. He ought to be looking for her, and she deserved to offer him a glower or two, if she liked.

But this was entirely shameless of him, and she wouldn’t have it.

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The first thing Todd thought was, oh for fuck’s sake because of course Maxime wasn’t popular with anyone. It would have been nice to be warned that a pissed off blonde woman may look like she’d just clawed her way out of hell for the express purpose of killing Timoleon Maxime with her bare hands. The second thing was that he should probably reply to her, because while he’d been under strict orders to not speak to anyone first, it wasn’t like he could ignore those who approached him.

“Me?” Todd blinked as he backed up a step. “I’m not playing anything. I was just trying to find the –”

But Maxime wasn’t a babbler. So Todd cleared his throat, squared his shoulders and tried again. “I didn’t bring you here.” Which was true. A spell had. Or the ballroom. He wasn’t entirely sure how he winded up here yet himself.

He hesitated a second longer under the weight of her glare, wishing that he had a sliver of context as to why she hated him so much. Should he feel remorse? Anger? Maxime had clearly done something, and Todd, despite himself, felt a small bloom of guilt on the man’s behalf. Which was unfair, really. He wasn’t the one who'd done anything.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Todd started, but finding that it probably wasn’t Maxime-like enough, he added. “Not that I care if I did.” He flicked his wrist at her. “Now… be gone. Woman.”

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She couldn’t tell what, but something was wrong about this. Months of ignoring him had not changed that: she knew it instantly, as soon as he took a step back. When had Timoleon Maxime ever taken a step back?

And he said he had not brought her here, but Estelle hardly believed that. He must have caught her looking at him, and come to taunt her in private, where he could. She oughtn’t rise to it – if she was smarter, she would march back to the ballroom this very moment.

But – whatever else he said that followed it, that sounded normal – Estelle was flabbergasted by yet another thing he had just said. I didn’t mean to upset you. No, really, what was wrong with him? Had he hit his head and forgotten his whole personality?

“Oh, now you don’t mean to upset me,” Estelle intoned viciously, closing the space between them if he wouldn’t – not to renege on the rest of her promise, but because she was hardly used to having conversations with him at a civil distance. He must be making fun of her, one way or another; after all she had been through that was his fault. “Well? Aren’t you going to ask me how I am? Remark on how well I look?”

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