January 18, 1890 - Wellingtonshire

Returning home from a friend's house, it was days like this that Rosie was glad that she didn't need a chaperone. Having someone else hover over her did not sound very comfortable. Taking in the brisk air and being able to think in peace was pleasant. Not needing to see her husband or pretend that she was happy in a marriage that she wished had never happened.

Passing by each of these houses, it came into question if she would live in one of them one day. Would Hugo ever reach his seemingly life long dream? Would this be their lives? Parties and pretending to fit in where she didn't feel they did?

Upon looking at each house, she stopped suddenly at seeing him. The man that seemed to show up oh so mysteriously every now and then. While one she might not love, she did feel a sort of curious pull towards. Not that she would voice this to anyone. At least, not to her husband certainly.

---

Ernest Mulciber/Ophelia Devine

  

---

Magic by Lady

Ernest had exhausted the books that one could freely order from the library over the course of the past week, and he had nothing in his personal library that touched on the subject of healing or anatomy. In order to continue his search, he'd need access to the restricted floors of the library — which, for obvious reasons, had to be accessed in person and not just by a servant carrying a note.

The thing about that was that he was supposed to be at home convalescing, not doing research. If he was well enough to go flouncing around the library in London, he was certainly well enough to return to work. He'd already written Urquart and informed him of his intention to return Monday morning, and was now setting about making the necessary accommodations to survive a day in the Department of Mysteries. He'd gotten the hang of this blasted wheelchair easily enough (there was nothing particularly challenging about moving a wheel around, though he was annoyed that he'd had to bother with it at all). There were other challenges, though, some of which could be easily solved by magic (reaching things off of shelves) and some whose solutions were a little less obvious. There were three stairs between the main Department of Mysteries area and the Hall of Prophecy, for instance, and just writing off an entire section of his Department and never visiting it again wasn't exactly an option.

He was sure he'd be able to overcome any challenge he faced — the worry was that there would be something unexpected, and he would find himself stuck in a ridiculous situation trying to puzzle it out while others stood by watching and pitying. To that end, he'd decided to brave the house a few days early and go for an impromptu shopping trip, so that he could identify any potential hurdles before he had to face them around anyone he actually cared for the opinion of.

He was not expecting, not was he particularly enthused by the prospect of, running into anyone familiar. Was it too late to pretend he hadn't seen her? Not yet, but unless he apparated away and abandoned the wheelchair on the sidewalk it would be impossible to avoid her. They were on the same side of the street, and crossing would be too obvious.

Bollocks.

  

---

Before she could even ask herself why he would possibly need a wheelchair, she did remember the Ministry incident. Likely this was what caused such a need. Well, it did leave her to wonder if it was a permanent... accessory.

Would she dare approach? Before she knew it, that was exactly what she was doing. Too smart to humiliate the man by asking about it, she decided that a different topic might be a nice change from the same question she was sure he had heard far too many times.

"It would be dreadfully boring to head to my destination alone. Would you care to accompany me, Mr. Mulciber?" While she had enjoyed the alone time, his company was far more interesting than that of a chaperone.

---

OOC - I'm gonna assume they introduced themselves properly at some point.

  

---

Magic by Lady

Oh, Merlin help him. She'd approached (not surprising), but then rather than make a quick comment and pass on, or even a superficial conversation, she'd asked for his company. He almost would have preferred to have suffered a pitying glance and her quickly bustling past him — it would have been humiliating, yes, but at least it would have been over quickly. If he was to accompany her back to her home (wherever that even was), he'd have to put off returning to the shelter of his own for that much longer. Every moment he stayed out here was only increasing the chances that he would embarrass himself with this blasted chair, and he was loathe to do that in front of her — or anyone, really, but particularly someone that he knew and actually passably enjoyed the company of.

"I'm afraid I shan't be very good company," he said rather miserably. It would have been rude to turn her down outright, but maybe she would see that walking someone to their destination when he couldn't even walk was the absolute last thing he was inclined to do.

  

---

Of course, any option of talking seemed to leave her with her foot in her mouth. What a fool she was to not have thought of something else to offer in way of conversation. He looked so dreadfully uncomfortable. She was far too intelligent to not take the hint. What would seven years of Hogwarts be worth if she couldn't understand when someone didn't want to spend time with others? "I understand. Perhaps we can make plans to speak under better circumstances?" Merlin, that was bold. Where had that come from? Too late to take it back now. Thank goodness seemed to be around to overhear.

---

  

---

Magic by Lady

Her question caught him entirely off guard. Make plans to speak — why? Ernest had imagined that her approaching him and starting up a conversation at all had been simply because they were acquainted and had caught sight of each other by chance. She had been obligated to say hello by common courtesy, just as he had been obligated not to avoid her offer too transparently. The courtesy, though, did not extend to making future arrangements. Nor did it make much sense to think that she was only saying this out of pity. It was possible, of course, but the few conversations they'd had at parties in the past did not give her that sort of obligation, at least not in his opinion. A friend or relative would have offered out of pity. Mrs. Binns, on the other hand... what motive could she have for wanting to speak to him in the future?

The only conclusion he could come to was that she genuinely enjoyed his company. That was surprising for two reasons. Although he had never explicitly thought it through, he would have assumed that their conversations in the past had only been due to convenience, since they tended to find themselves equally bored at society parties and were therefore better conversation partners than anyone who liked those sorts of things. The second reason was harder to articulate, even in his head, but he had the sense that even if they did enjoy each other's company, genuinely, and wanted to find more opportunities of sharing it, that would have changed after his injury. His ability to walk had no bearing on his conversational skills, it was true, but — but there was something different, and he was less than, and he did not expect anyone to willingly want to spend time with him in this state. And, apparently, she did — or at least, was pretending to.

"If you'd like that," he responded, still too startled to have much in way of response.

  

---

Quite frankly, Rosie would prefer the company of a smart and charming cripple to that of her annoying and whiny husband. Mr. Mulciber was intriguing. Part of her genuinely liked that. And part of her simply liked the subtle excitement of it all, however small it may be now.

A lack of rejection was promising in and of itself, though he hadn't said specifically that he would like that. Still, she decided to take a chance. "I would."

---

  

---

Magic by Lady

She seemed sincere. How utterly peculiar.

Ernest certainly wasn't opposed to continuing their interactions or deepening their acquaintance (at least, not any more so than he was mildly opposed to all social interaction at the moment as it distracted from the primary task of getting his legs working again), but he still couldn't fathom what appeal there was for her. If she had been interested in talking to him initially for the sake of convenience, that convenience had now disappeared. It was unlikely Rufina would want to drag him to social events any more, as a physical reminder that she was saddled with a cripple for a husband, and he certainly wouldn't go of his own volition. If she had been interested in cultivating an acquaintance because of their different in social status (for he was not blind to the fact that she and her husband were rather less well off than the circles they tried to associate themselves with), his utility in that aspect would have diminished as well, if not utterly disappeared.

"Perhaps you'll allow me to write on occasion, then?" he offered uncertainly. He wasn't ready to commit himself to a proper social engagement of any sort, but he also didn't want to refuse her outright. At least, not until he'd figured out the motivation behind her offer in the first place.

  

---

It was true that Hugo would be pleased with her making connections with the Mulciber family, but that wasn't really the main focus on her mind. Not that she would admit it if it was.

"Of course. I do look forward to hearing from you." Part of her felt disappointment from the distance of it all, but she gave no hint to the matter. "If you will excuse me, I suppose I should get on with my day."

---

  

---

Magic by Lady