12 February 1895 — Cupid’s Arrow Love Day Ball

Mabel’s cheeks still burnt with a fiery intensity as she stared at Dory. The coat tails of Mr. Coyle had just disappeared out the door but she still was having trouble catching up; replaying what had just occurred in her head:

Her heart was racing in her chest so loudly she felt like she could hear it. She looked down to her gloved forearm, reaching to peel the fabric back to take a look at her skin. It was unblemished as it was before the golden arrow had shot her and Mr. Coyle straight through. She had reached out to steady herself, and he in turn had taken her elbow and supported her forearm with his own as she adjusted.

Then the most wonderful feeling exploded within Mabel and she looked up to find Mr. Coyle’s eyes shining down on her as if she’d built the world beneath them. They got swept up by an excited crowd, letting it carry them along a hallway before it deposited them next to one of the parlors. Of course, that very same crowd was oblivious to anything else as it continued down the hallway, with not a soul looking back to observe the bewildered couple stumble through the open doors.

The parlor was obviously open for guests to come and go as they please and mercifully it was positively empty by the time Mabel had realized where she was. She was also overcome with an absolutely giddy feeling, and she and Mr. Coyle had taken to laughing at the rather crudely crafted figurines locked in a glass cabinet. They exchanged jokes back and forth before looking at the paintings available and before Mabel knew it, Mr. Coyle’s lips had descended upon hers, stealing the breath from her lungs in the most potent fashion.

They’d stayed there for a few moments, Mabel having given in and melted into his arms. The only thing that had crossed her mind was that it was a most wonderful feeling, being paid attention to like this. But then a cough had sounded from the door. Mabel wrenched herself away from the man in her arms, her hand flying up to her stinging lips as she looked at who had walked in on them. “Dory!”

The feeling that had filled her like strong drink just moments ago had gone, quite abruptly and Mabel was left wondering…what in the world had just happened? And again, it was like the world sped up in front of her and she heard nothing of the exchange between Dory and Mr. Coyle as the man who had just been in her arms disappeared out the door.

“D-Dory, what…what are you doing here?” She heard herself stammer as her hand fluttered up to her hair self-consciously.

Dorian Fisk

  

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Historically, Valentine's Day always caused some sort of mayhem within their small magical community. There were amortentia scandals with letters and tea,  explosions at bakeries and lovers getting caught in closets. It was to the point that Dory rarely even entertained the idea of venturing out for Valentine's Day as he feared becoming either ensnared in some would-be matchmaker's plot or bodily harmed in one way or another. The holiday wasn't worth the risk, or at least it wasn't before this year. 

His schedule hadn't allowed him to interact much with Mabel throughout the entirety of January. Too many of his employees were out sick with a respiratory illness and, after suffering from the Laughing Plague all those years ago, he wasn't keen on catching the illness himself. It meant his employees were highly encouraged (read: all but forced) to use their personal time to rest and recover. It also meant his squad was stretched way too thin with Dory taking more active field work cases than he had since before his promotion. 

In truth, it was invigorating to be involved in the field again and to realize he remained mostly capable of keeping up with the work. There were only three cases during which he had to summon additional help, but those three each involved an element of speed he would've struggled with even as a teenager. Slowly and surely he was regaining his sense of self. Slowly and surely he was recognizing that he was beyond ready for a quieter life than that of a rake. 

Which led him to the Valentine's Day Ball in search of a certain mediwitch who had starred in all of his recent dreams. And he'd found her too, snogging with Coyle of all people. Dory knew he ought to have slowly backed away from the couple and allowed them their moment's privacy. However, if he had caught them this easily then Coyle was doing a piss poor job of protecting Mabel's reputation. (Yet another reason why the ass didn't deserve her.)

Dory had cleared his throat, keeping his flush far from his face (though the tips of his ears were likely red) and glared hard at Coyle until the man stepped away from Mabel. Then, after a brief, harsh conversation about the reckless and foolish behavior, he was left alone with her. 

And, despite coming tonight solely in search of her, Dory found he no longer wished to remain in the same room.

“I should ask you the same question,” he muttered coldly in response. “I never took you as someone who was careless.”

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Dory’s words were a bucket of ice water over her entire body. Shame twisted in her gut and whatever smile Mabel had been holding onto dropped immediately. The emotion in his eyes was bright and gleaming, but everything else about him indicated he’d rather be anywhere else but with her.

“I’m not…I…” Was all that she could answer. The air was too thin. She took a step backward, her hand dropping to clutch at her skirts. Her lips still burned with Mr. Coyle’s bite and she pressed her own teeth into the pillowy flesh there in hopes of thinking of something other than the memory of the man’s lips on hers.

“Dory, I swear, I don’t…I don’t know what just happened.” She said weakly, feeling a hot stinging behind her eyes. She was extremely aware of how she likely looked; disheveled and like a foolish, panting debutante instead of a capable healer talking to one of her best friends. “We were shot by the Cupid and all of a sudden everything just felt so…light, and suddenly he was…”

She broke off. If Dory had seen them, then no one else had, and she had to be thankful for that. But even the thought of speaking the words out loud, describing what she’d just done with Mr. Coyle caused her to tremble.

  

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Mabel's protests softened his ire at Coyle's recklessness some — not entirely and certainly not enough for him to not still be enraged by the scene he'd just witnessed. But, if what she said was true then it wasn't entirely their fault, was it? Magic interfered with relationships all the time: ensnaring mistletoe, love potions and the likes. Blaming Mabel for choices beyond her control wasn't fair, even if the sight of it twisted his innards uncomfortably.

(Friends, we are meant to be friends, not lovers he reminded himself  bitterly.)

Dory sighed heavily and took a step further into the parlor. Mischief magic — such as the Valentine's hijinks he was so afraid of only minutes ago — weren't capable of summoning entirely new devotions of their own accord, which meant whatever arrow they were struck by had only amplified preexisting feelings. Mabel had to feel something for Coyle in some capacity and Coyle … 

Coyle was either genuine in his interest or plotting something uncouth. 

And based upon his experiences with the bastard, Dory was heavily leaning towards the latter. 

“Take a breath,” he murmured, his expression softening further as he realized her panic was intensifying. “It was only me who saw and you know I would never tell. It's alright.” Nothing about this was alright. Losing her to Coyle — to anyone — would never be alright. However, as her friend it was his duty to reassure her to the best of his abilities that all would be fine.

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He believed her. The realization hit her harder than she expected, and she let out a shaky exhale. He believed her. She knew why it was important that Dory knew she wouldn’t have put herself in such a compromising position, but she couldn’t very well reveal that could she? But he knew she wasn’t lying and that was the most important part.

And yet she still shook, knowing what could have happened had they been caught by anyone other than Dory.

Fuck.

Mabel had to focus on the sound of his voice before she had a complete breakdown in the parlor.  She obeyed immediately, dragging air through her lungs and then exhaling. She took another breath, her eyes locked to his as he coaxed her further down from the ledge she’d been shoved onto. “It’s n-not alright,” She managed through another shaky exhale. “I c-could have ruined myself. Who - who would play such a beastly trick at a party?”

Of course Mabel knew that worse things had happened at Valentine’s Day events; people’s lives had been actually ruined before, but knowing that she could have been added to those numbers was not a pleasant feeling. She buried her face in her hands, feeling the shame of being discovered like that - by Dory of all people - sear down her spine.

  

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A heavy ball of regret settled in Dory's stomach as her panic grew. Accusing her in such a cruel and vindictive way was an impulsive and unfair decision, and one he ordinarily wouldn't have made were he not consumed by jealousy. Dory took another step forward, leaving a few feet between them. There had to be something he could say, something he could do to help calm the chaos he had caused. 

Except, there wasn't. Or, at least, not anything he could do in such a public setting. 

“It's a horrid-” His words died in his throat as she began crying. Suddenly, there were no thoughts in his mind besides getting her out of the party unseen. “Mabel, ssh,” he soothed as came to be within arms reach. The hosts likely had wards against apparition up around the house, so he'd have to find the floo or some back door. There at least had to be a powder room she could slip into for a minute. Something to stop the scene from causing another Valentine's Day scandal. 

“I'm sorry.” He murmured a split second before he dared to rest a hand to rest on her upper arm. “I never should have - I'm sorry.” Dory turned his head nervously towards the doors and was relieved to see no one standing there. “I think there's a powder room down the hall, or I can find a way out for you. How can I fix this?”

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Though she couldn’t see him through her fingers, Mabel knew he’d moved closer. She could hear him. Sense him. Smell him. And all of it was comforting, which only made her crying worse. He shouldn’t have to comfort her given that she’d gotten herself into this mess. She wanted to move closer to him, and at the same time wanted to shove him away. Her skin prickled uncomfortably as she took deep breaths to try and compose herself.

“No, no, I’m the one who should be apologising,” She sniffed, reappearing from behind her hands as she looked at him with a watery gaze. “I shouldn’t be breaking down like this, it - it was only a k-kiss for God’s sake, it could have been m-much worse…”

Mabel knew they were lucky it wasn’t a lust potion they’d been given. The thought of that made her stomach turn even more and she felt the blood drain from her face. Oh God if Dory had caught them —

She took a step backwards. “I-I think I need to go home.” She murmured. She needed to compose herself away from Dory. There was too much between them to pretend that she could let him comfort her like old friends. She couldn’t ignore her feelings but it wasn’t the right time to express them either.

  

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Dory understood exactly how much worse it could have been. Couples were found topless in coat closets and abruptly ran out on their betrotheds to elope. That Coyle had only kissed her was a small blessing if there were any to be found in this situation. (Or had his arrival disrupted any plans Coyle was hoping to enact?)

“It was just a kiss,” he murmured in agreement, his expression falling as she stepped away from him. He'd hurt her again, had caused this breakdown on a night she was ostensibly hoping to enjoy. The guilt churned his stomach. “I'll find out where the floo is, okay? You can go home. Were you here with anyone?” His questions came quickly, one after the other, and he hoped it didn't panic her more.

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Shame had settled like a shroud over her shoulders. She just wanted to go home and be alone. Mabel shook her head, wanting him to stay and wanting him to leave in equal measure. “I came with Rowan but we hadn’t planned on leaving at the same time.” She said softly, turning to take a seat on the chaise to compose herself again. “She wouldn’t mind.”

  

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He nodded like a fool once more. “Alright, I'll find out where the floo is for you and then I'll let her know you left.” Rowan’s wrath was sure to see him hexed, or worse, once she realized the circumstances behind Mabel's abrupt departure. However, he knew better than to insist he accompany her home when she was both obviously distraught and undesiring of his company. “I'll be right back.”

It took him only a minute to track down a maid to ask where the floo was and another to find Mabel again. “Here, it's just this way.” Dory quickly instructed in lieu of any further sympathizing. “It's all going to be okay.”

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Mabel only nodded, likely to his back seeing as once she looked up again Dory was gone. It didn’t take long for him to return, but it was enough for Mabel to dry her eyes and compose herself. Once he stepped back into the parlor, she got up and followed him.

His reassurances were supposed to have helped, but in reality they did little besides make her feel as if she was a fragile little doll to be coddled. And she was, wasn’t she? Christ, she’d just nearly had a breakdown at the fact that Mr. Coyle had snogged her. She’d been kissed before, she’d even had sex before - with the very man who was leading her to the floo!

The hallway was miraculously empty, and Mabel followed closely behind him. “How ridiculous you must think me,” She said quietly. “Snogging someone I barely know, then crying as if I’m a fresh sprig of a debutante.”

  

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He bit back countless responses until they were standing before the floo. They were still alone but he didn't imagine they would be for long. “There are a great many things I think of you and ridiculous has never been one.” Dory promised her after ensuring he remained a respectable distance away. Mabel had made it clear she didn't want him near her and he was firmly of the belief that boundaries were always to be respected. 

Then, a second later he added, “and it isn't ridiculous to be upset after being cruelly accused like that. I never should have said it, I'm sorry.”

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His words, reassuring as they were, did nothing but poke the shroud of shame that had engulfed her. Mabel stole a glance at him, pressing her lips together. Could she really blame him for accusing her for being reckless? What would she have thought, with their history, if she had caught him in an embrace like that with another woman?

It would have been a dagger to the heart, that’s what. She wouldn’t have hesitated to throw at least a similar accusation at him like that. Maybe even worse.

“Thank you,” Mabel accepted his apology entirely without mirth, but she still could only manage a small smile to him as she reached out to grab a handful of floo powder. “I understand though, truly I do.” She stepped into the fireplace before turning around. “Good bye Dory.” She said, before throwing the floo powder down and letting the world spin around her.

  

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