February 20th, 1891 — Chuddley Cannons vs Hogsmeade Howlers match

It was as though she would be meeting with a god and not Mr. Fitzroy Prewett that day. She had spent so much time thinking and fantasizing about this encounter, that the man had reached mythological levels in Cee's mind. She remembered him as slightly taller, slightly more handsome, slightly better than he was in reality. And this dream persisted even after the initial greetings.

Cee had omitted her usual pinks and went for a more eye-catching orange for her dress, honouring the Cannons' colours.

(What was Mr. Prewett's favourite colour? Hopefully, he didn't hate orange!)


The match hadn't started yet and the guests were still arriving at the box. Cecily's smile was wide when Mr. Prewett greeted them. "Mr. Prewett! I know you must appear impartial, but I hope you've not turned your back to your old team?"

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Fitzroy Prewett Aldous Crouch

  

The last time he had seen Cecily Gallivan, he had very nearly fucked her.

This knowledge weighed heavily upon him in his private box which, for the moment, felt altogether too public.

It was not that he did not wish to have her; she was quite attractive in a striking sort of way, even if orange was not, perhaps, precisely her colour. Indeed, the memory of their fleeting—but heated—time together at the museum had come to him in certain private situations in the weeks that followed. But she was Cecily Gallivan, and even if not from a family like the Prewetts, she was a young lady, and a gentleman—even a rake—knew that to run around fucking young ladies was, at best, frowned upon and, at worst, and surefire way to find oneself trapped into marriage.

Not to mention her brother and stepmother were also here.

And his brothers.

And yet there she stood, all smiles and two wide eyes on him and he felt stirrings of panic and something decidedly not panic.

"Now that I am no longer the director of the quidditch league," he answered, a literal arm' length between them seeming a safe enough distance to flash Miss Gallivan a small smile, "I am relieved that I can be open about my favoritism once more."

— Cecily Gallivan —

  

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"I am glad to hear that, or I would have been terribly disappointed by your betrayal!" Cee replied conspiratorially.

There was a small gap in their conversation, during which Cee struggled not to smile too much to Mr. Prewett. She bit her lower lip and look downwards. She felt as though they were two mischevious Hogwarts students who had just pulled a prank and were about to be discovered. Instead of mortified, though, she was excited.

"Who do you think is going to win?" Cee finally asked. "Oh, let me show you my predictions!" At that, she pulled out her pocket sized notebook that she used to keep track of her bets. She opened it to the page with her predictions for that day's match and she closed the gap between them to show him.

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That she had a notebook seemingly dedicated to quidditch was surprising, but not exactly in a good way. Politely, Fitz leaned in to look at her notebook and her breasts but was not really paying much attention until he saw—

"Eight hours?!" the wizard exclaimed, taking a step back. "Merlin, I hope not—I've plans at the club this evening!"

— Cecily Gallivan —

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   Cecily Gallivan

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Being so close to Mr. Prewett was killing her. She bit her lower lip and glanced towards him while he looked over her notes. Foolishly, she believed that he'd be so impressed by her vast knowledge of Quidditch. She had fantasized about them discussing complex Quidditch strategy, in some office setting, as they drank whiskey since Miss Jones said that was his drink of choice and she wanted to be a cool girl.

Then, his comment brought those dreams crashing down.

She hadn't expected this reaction. She'd expected for him to see her notes about the Morrocan gameplay, be impressed by her knowledge, and for them to discuss that.

Unable to keep the disappointment from her expression, Cee asked: "What sort of plans would be more important than a Cannons' game?" She'd tried to make it sound light-hearted, like a joke, but her tone had sounded lukewarm at best.

She closed her notebook and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

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   Elias Grimstone, Fitzroy Prewett

Fitz was not sure what response he had been expecting, but it was certainly not the one he got. Though her tone was light, he could tell from the look on her face that she had not approved of his reaction. Fitz found he did not like disappointing the pretty Miss Gallivan, but also wondered if she might have been more quidditch-obsessed than he thought (in a bad way).

"Miss Gallivan," he answered, a bemused smile tugging a the corners of his mouth, "I did not appreciate an eight-hour quidditch match when I played the sport myself, and I certainly do not appreciate them now as a spectator with, if I must admit, a rather limited attention span." It had only been Miss Zabini that had made the four hour concert earlier that month bearable; while quidditch certainly garnered more interest and patience from the former beater, even there he must tap out at six.

"Besides, we gentlemen have our rituals; part of my enjoyment of quidditch matches is the discussion at the club afterwards! It is all part of the pomp."

— Cecily Gallivan —

  

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Well, he did have a point, eight hours were too many for any sort of event. Even she had to admit that after four or five hours it became tiring to sit and spectate.

Perhaps it was his announcement of having other plans that had annoyed her. She had hoped to see him eager to see her and be with her. Not be looking forward to leaving, so he could go to the club!

That wasn't to say that he wasn't happy to see her, though. He'd merely complained about the hypothetical duration of the game and she made a big deal out of it.

"You are right, Mr. Prewett," Cee said sheepishly. "I suppose it is because my sort of clubs don't have these sorts of discussion that I did not understand. I confess that I envy you a bit for having someone to talk about Quidditch after matches! All I have is my brother and he is not very eager to indulge me."

It wasn't the wisest thing to say publicly that the sponsor of the Chuddley Cannons disliked Quidditch talk, but Cee could be terribly honest to someone whose company she enjoyed.

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Judging by her reaction, Fitz's explanation did the trick—though he had to admit that he was vaguely annoyed to have had to explain himself. Usually, the only woman he owed any explanation was his mother, and that was quite decidedly the way Fitzroy wished to keep it. Zealous quidditch fans were not about to be added to that list.

"Surely you have friends with whom you may discuss such things?" he asked. "If I were more thoughtful, I would have included one on your family's invitation today."

— Cecily Gallivan —

  

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"My dearest friend, Miss Zelda Fisk, is a big fan of the Cannons," Cee replied. She invited her friends to the Gallivans' own box and they did talk about Quidditch at times. As much as she loved her friend and their Quidditch discussion, and as thoughtful as it might have been of him to think he should have invited her, it wasn't Zelda's company that she wanted that day.

Didn't he want her company? To talk Quidditch with her?

More and more disappointment was gathering up inside of her. She had imagined this encounter to go differently!

"It is a pity that you have not invited your friend, Mr. Ben Crouch," Cecily said innocently, though her comment was a bit of a jab too. "I quite enjoyed his company the last time you invited me to your box, at the World Cup!"

  

So Miss Gallivan, if tangentially, had connections to the Minister of Magic? That much was worth noting, Fitz thought, mentally wincing.

"My box is rather smaller today," he pointed out with a wry grin, "though the company no less engaging."

— Cecily Gallivan —

  

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"I suppose one does not need a lot of space with the right company," Cee commented, hinting to their encounter at the museum.

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At that, he could not help but cock a flirtatious smile.

There had been very little space, indeed, in the alcove, which had proved utterly suitable for he and Miss Gallivan. Had they not been interrupted, it might have proven a little cramped for his desires, but tight spaces certainly had their advantages.

"Just so, Miss Gallivan," Fitz agreed before casting a glance in her brother's direction. "Now, if I may be so nosy, seeing as you don't have a club at which to discuss matches after the fact, what do you do with your time?"

— Cecily Gallivan —

  

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Why was Mr. Prewett asking her about her free time? Even though she had received an off vibe from Fitzroy Prewett previously, she perked up at his question. He had to be asking because he liked her and wanted to know more about her!

What did she say? She didn't want to seem boring. A debutante's life was significantly less interesting than Fitzroy Prewett's, though.

"Oh, you have sisters, Mr. Prewett, you know how our days go," Cee replied. Then, she took a step towards him, just so she could confide in a quieter voice: "I confess that I have this... past-time that helps me rewind... I enjoy flying, during the early hours of the day. I've flown all the way to Irvingly, at times. This is my secret, though, you cannot tell!"

She hoped that he would get ideas to "randomly" join her during one of those solo flights.

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   Fitzroy Prewett

A woman of society alone and about in the early hours of the morning, even if married, was an unusual thing, and Fitz's eyebrows arched in genuine surprise. The conspiracy of the way Miss Gallivan said it set gooseflesh on the back of his neck.

"I cannot think," the wizard returned in equally hushed tones, "that your brother is particularly fond of such a habit. I know I would discourage such a thing in my sisters, even though married."

Or widowed, but. Even though the words were somewhat admonishing, Fitzroy's tone was not.

— Cecily Gallivan —

  

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"Do your sisters tell you everything they're up to?" Cecily asked teasingly. She hadn't told Theo about her solo flights, but she suspected that he wouldn't be very phased if he found out. He'd probably tell her to be careful not to be seen, but otherwise, he wouldn't care enough to be mad or have bars installed to her windows so she couldn't leave. In a way, Cee felt such freedom because she sent such negligence from him. As for Veronica, she felt more like an older sister than a mother to her.

"Besides, the sky is like a no man's land in a way, don't you think?"

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Fitz loved his sisters, but had never been responsible for them—a fact that was rather too sensible for him to bother with.

"I don't know," he chuckled instead, "I like to think it's less No Man's Land, more the kingdom of all those bold enough to claim it."

— Cecily Gallivan —

  

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