April 24, 1892 — Hogsmeade 

It had been a few weeks since her little debacle with Professor Foxwood and Poppy was still sulking about it. She wasn’t openly sour, but internally she couldn’t help but feel the failure weighing down her usually bubbly spirit. The doubt that had been planted that afternoon had been sitting on her shoulder like a nasty little imp, chirping in her ear. Poppy had refused to pick up her wand and practice any more DADA spells, despite Professor Lissington’s insistence that she was gifted. Poppy knew she was gifted, at least in Potions. Defense Against the Dark Arts… she didn’t quite believe him. Not yet, and she certainly wasn’t about to try it again any time soon.

No, she’d set the practicum aside recently. Instead, Poppy had been focusing - read: worrying - about her debut and the end of term. She couldn’t believe her tenure at Hogwarts was already coming to an end. It felt like just yesterday she’d stepped into the castle as an ickle first year… She couldn’t imagine what was out there waiting for her in the great wide beyond. Her empty stomach turned over a bit at the thought and Poppy brought a hand to her lips delicately as she held back a wave of nausea. It was better to think of other things right now, she theorized. At least until she found Atticus and could latch onto his arm like a desperate monkey never to release him.

She passed through the overhang of the pathway and followed the other students, smiling distractedly as Juniper chittered beside her. She hadn’t told June yet about what had happened, nor had she mentioned that she would be spending the day with her cousin. She knew if she did June would only become suspicious and Poppy wasn’t ready to share her failure just yet. It had to look like a happy accident that Atticus just happened to be waiting there for her, as a surprise. When the group finally came to the walkway leading to Hogsmeade, Poppy turned to Juniper. “Oh look,” she said, excitedly. “There’s Atticus! He must have come to have tea with me!”

---

Atticus Foxwood, Basil Foxwood, Juniper Edevane  & mood music

---

  

---

© Fox

June had been looking forward to the Hogsmeade weekend for ages. This was their second to last one, and while it was a sad occasion when she thought about it, she was also ready to celebrate. She’d miss Hogwarts for sure - she’d miss the freedom, seeing her friends as often as she did, but she was also looking forward to not being trapped inside the castle walls while a more exciting life happened outside of them. As she walked next to Poppy, she noted she looked a little less for wear, yet Juniper merely chalked it up to graduation depression - she knew how much her friend was going to miss Hogwarts, too.

“This is it! We have this one and the next one, and then we can come to Hogsmeade as often as we’d like.” The blonde grinned at her. She knew how annoyed her maid was going to be at having to chaperone her all the time, but well, she supposed she’d also been expecting it. She and Ophelia would both debut at the same time and they’d both lead separate lives.

Poppy said something about her cousin, Atticus, and June found her eyes following where her friend was looking. Her elder cousin was there, standing near the path where the students finally entered Hogsmeade. Reaching out, June squeezed her friend’s hand. “Have fun! Come find me later. I’ll probably be at the apothecary as long as there’s a chaperone nearby.” She nearly rolled her eyes, knowing full and well that the old bat still had it out for her.

She say didn’t anything else as she bid Poppy a goodbye, making a beeline for the shops.

---

Poppy Dashwood

---

The following 1 user Likes Juniper Edevane's post:1 user Likes Juniper Edevane's post
   Poppy Dashwood

---

Poppy was grateful June didn’t stop her with any questions or odd looks. They were both probably in their own worlds enough to be alright losing the other’s orbit, at least for a time. Poppy grinned at her best friend as June mentioned needing a chaperone for the apothecary; she knew better. She knew June would be the first to find a way to sneak off and buy something illicit, assuming the old crackpot owner didn’t spot her. Waving easily, Poppy watched as her friend waltzed off. Just as June meandered out of sight, Poppy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. She then turned gratefully towards her cousin Atticus with a deflated, obviously less than alright look on her face. She latched onto the man’s sleeve with tiny, delicate hands and a grip that could rival steel.

“Atticus,” she breathed. “I’m glad you made it. I…” Poppy hesitated and looked down towards her shoes. “I’m glad to see you.” The girl felt something inside of her pinch, knowing she had to eventually tell him what was on her mind. For now however, she could delay it. Slipping her arm into his, Poppy tugged Atticus towards the accompanying staff chaperone.

“Professor Foxwood,” she called, respectfully. She knew Basil hated being addressed by his given name under Hogwarts premises and today Poppy was not feeling up to testing his patience. She still owed him a lot, even after her profuse apology. The young Ravenclaw had spent a great deal of time the weekend after her incident debating what to possibly do to express her sincere apology to him. She’d decided that on this trip she’d find him a small gift, just something to express her remorse and hope Basil would forgive her. He’d already said as much, reassuring her, but Poppy wanted to go the extra mile. She needed to show Basil that despite their differences, she loved him just as much as she loved his brother, Atticus.

Heart swelling with a new wave of emotion, Poppy approached her cousin. She hoped he couldn't hear it in her voice. “I’m heading off with Atticus for the day. I won’t need a chaperone,” she said, patting the man’s arm. She didn’t make eye contact as she spoke, and her face was warm despite her best efforts. “I’ll check in with you before curfew.”

---

Atticus Foxwood & mood music

---

  

---

© Fox

Basil didn’t dislike chaperoning the Hogsmeade weekends as much as he felt some of the other staff did. He didn’t have much of his own agenda to maintain, considering most of his extra-curricular work could be done in his study. When Basil came to Hogsmeade it was only ever just for an errand or to meet with someone he couldn’t otherwise correspond with over owl. Today he was glad of the distraction to keep a watchful eye on the bustling students. They were growing restless as the end of term came closer and more prone to getting into mischief.

A familiar voice called him over then and Basil turned to see Poppy heading in his direction with none other than Atticus in tow. He ought to have been surprised, but something about the scene just struck him as expected, familiar even. Smiling cheerfully in the girl’s direction, he laced his fingers behind his back, appreciative that she hadn’t barked out ‘Basil’ across the crowd as she was usually wont to do. Poppy had been very careful around him recently, and Basil knew it had everything to do with his accident. She simply didn’t believe him when he said he’d forgiven her; it was never truly Poppy’s fault to begin with, regardless of the circumstances, and he didn't blame her an ounce for it. Perhaps Atticus could make her see that, if she even spoke to anyone on the subject again.

Nodding at her explanation, Basil eyed his brother. “You better keep a double-watch on her, Atticus,” he said lightly. “This one’s trouble.” It was meant as a joke, a small quip to lighten the mood, but it fell rather flat. Basil sighed as Poppy refused to make eye contact with him. He pressed a hand to her shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. Basil really just wanted to tell her over again that there was nothing wrong, that they were quite fine, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him. So, instead, he leaned closer to his brother to whisper something she wouldn’t hear. “Keep a special eye on her today, would you? And buy her a pumpkin pastie from me?”

---

Atticus Foxwood

---

  

Atticus had always had a soft spot for his young cousin; it may have stemmed from the memory of her being immensely entertained with what magic he could do at twelve when she was born, no matter how small or frivolous it had been. Basil had already become bored with what he could show him, given that he himself was at Hogwarts soon after and learning many of the same spells (even more, because Atticus was never ambitious when it came to his studies), but Poppy never let him down. So when she turned him with a look of sheer agony on his face and grasped his sleeve, he reached over to cover his hand with hers.

His face softened as she greeted him. “I’m glad to see you too.” He murmured, a slight frown against his lips as she looked down at the ground. Whatever had happened must still be weighing heavily on her mind. Sighing softly, Atticus allowed himself to be tugged toward his little brother, watching their interaction with slight interest. It was clear they cared for each other, even if he knew his dear cousin was often a thorn in Basil’s side - she was one in his too when she made rash decisions, but still, he loved her. Poppy had always been his favorite cousin, there was no doubting that, and in turn it always appeared to be the same; Basil had always been attracted to spending time with the rebels of the family, and of course a dear Alderton cousin tended to be just that whenever she attended the same social events.

He smiled fondly. He still missed her dearly, and well, he’d work on a match for her when she returned home from her vacation abroad. “Have her back after curfew. Yes Professor.” He answered with a smile as he turned his attention toward Basil as he drew closer. Of course he'd ensure her safety and that she didn't break a single rule today. He hummed in acknowledgement. “It’s spring, so I’m not sure pumpkin is still a flavor, but I’ll try.” Atticus grinned at him as he clasped onto his shoulders, sneaking a quick look at Poppy. Then he stepped away from his brother in favor of stepping next to her. He offered her his arm.

“And where does my dear cousin want to be whisked off to first? Breakfast, perhaps?” Breakfast, so Merlin wouldn’t be able to sniff out the crumbs like a damn dog hours from now. He was starving because he was on a diet, and very vocal about his unhappiness. Atticus turned toward Hogsmeade where the students had started to fill the streets; he tended to avoid the place on these weekends given how crowded it was. He patted Poppy’s hand and offered her a smile. “We can even find a private place to sit. You look like you have a lot to tell me.”

---

Poppy Dashwood & Basil Foxwood

---

  

---

Poppy gave herself kudos for not wincing when Basil squeezed her shoulder in what was likely meant to be reassurance. His quip about her ‘being trouble’ had only solidified in her mind how reckless he must think her all the time, and how low-brow. Poppy didn’t dare look up at him as Basil and Atticus exchanged a few words, evidently not meant for her. Normally this would frustrate Poppy and cause her to complain vocally, but this time she merely turned her head away and let them have their moment. It wasn’t like she didn’t know what they were talking about anyway.

As she and Atticus finally peeled away from the group, Poppy felt something loosen just a touch in her tightly wound stomach. She nodded at his suggestion. Breakfast sounded like just the ticket; a nice warm cup of tea always made everything seem a little less bleak. “Yes,” she replied, dramatically. “I do.”

Poppy held tightly to her cousin’s arm as they walked in the direction of Hogsmeade’s High Street. She didn’t dislike Hogsmeade per say… it was just so familiar. After years of coming into the village - if it could even be called that - and exploring the tea rooms and bakeries on offer, Poppy longed for something a little more discreet or elegant. Preferably both. Especially on a day like today where she had to parade around and put on a happy face while spilling her miserable failure to Atticus in public, it seemed a little off-putting to take a seat at The Painted Lady. Still, Poppy soldiered on. At least when she debuted she’d have a chance to attend events in London and see a few more places, assuming her mama approved.

“Why don’t we try the Ivy Leaf? I rather prefer its easy elegance to the stifling gossip The Painted Lady encourages.” Not that Poppy wasn’t one to frequent the latter establishment or engage in gossip, but she had her moods. “It’s such a tragedy what happened there earlier this year…” she continued. “Did you ever read anything in the post following up about what caused all that trouble?”

---

Atticus Foxwood

---

  

---

© Fox

Atticus couldn’t help but steal a glance at his dear cousin as they walked toward Hogsmeade. There was a pain across her face he couldn’t compare to anything he’d seen before. Sure he’d seen her try and fail before, but this, whatever this was, was completely different. He placed his hand over hers and nodded at her suggestion. The Ivy Leaf is perfect,” Atticus murmured as he turned them toward the shop. The fact that it had been completely leveled a couple months ago had completely slipped his mind; he had avoided Hogsmeade in the following weeks. The sign above it looked almost new and he was pleased to see it was open.

“No,” Atticus frowned as he held the door open for Poppy to enter first before following her inside. “All I remember is reading of the explosion. I don’t know if they ever found the cause.” There was a hesitation to continue further in, but he had no doubt he could protect her if something were to happen - Hogsmeade had quite the track record lately of things going wrong more than right. He could only hope for her sake it was the latter.

He pulled his arm from hers as he gently placed his hand against her back. “Why don’t you go find a place to sit while I order?” Atticus suggested. The Ivy Leaf didn’t seem to be too popular of a place for the students, probably due to it being a little pricer than the Painted Lady and not as popular as the Three Broomsticks, but there were still a handful of students beginning to meander about. Atticus had ordered for Poppy a thousand times and while her favorites had changed over the years, her favorite tea seemed to have remained the same, at least for the past few months. A white rose tea for her, a simple black tea for himself - he didn’t particularly care for tea, but it seemed he was always in situations where he had to drink it. He added a couple scones onto the order before collecting it in his hands and turning to find where Poppy had wandered off to.

Atticus slid into the chair across from her and pushed the tea and plate toward her. “What do you want to talk about first?” He hummed. He wouldn't press her, but he knew she had a lot on her mind.

---

Poppy Dashwood

---

  

---

Poppy hummed noncommittally at Atticus’ response about the explosion. She was curious, sure, but she had more pressing things on her mind to worry about at the moment. Nodding at her cousin as he stepped up to arrange their accompaniment, Poppy climbed the stairs to the tea room elegantly and took a quick look around. She selected a secluded little table near the back window, somewhere just isolated enough to bear sharing her dilemma aloud.

Settling in, Poppy looked about the tea room. She didn’t recognize any of the other patrons as classmates, thankfully. She was glad of it; the last thing she needed was any more gossip roaming about the school as she admitted it was in fact her fault the transfiguration professor had ended up in the infirmary. There had been a lot less talk about the fact than she had anticipated actually, but that could only be due to Professor Lissington’s helpful interference. She didn’t need to go about undoing all his work by opening her mouth too loudly now.

Finally Atticus joined her and Poppy accepted the delicate china cup that was pushed in her direction. It smelled delightfully of rose and she couldn’t help but give her cousin a grateful smile; he’d remembered. Stirring it around a bit with her small spoon, despite not adding sugar or milk to actually need stirring in, Poppy delayed the inevitable. She wasn’t sure exactly how to begin.

“A great many things,” the girl replied somberly.

The scones on the table taunted her. Poppy hadn’t eaten a full meal in days, as was rather normal for her, and the sight of them sitting there so unobtrusively was almost offensive. She wished desperately she could indulge in one, however unladylike. Sugar was a great comfort to the brunette, but Poppy struggled with frequent stomach upsets. She hated how food made her feel before and after an indulgence and preferred to refrain.

“I… I supposed I ought to start with the worst of it.” She sighed, and twisted one loose curl around her finger anxiously. “I… I sent Basil to the infirmary. A few weeks ago.” She paused for a heartbeat and closed her eyes. “It was an accident, truly, but it was so wretchedly horrid Atticus!” Brown eyes opened again and Poppy looked up imploringly at her cousin, willing him to understand. “I shot memories straight out of his head to the point that he didn’t even recognize me! Professor Lissington tried to assure me that it was his fault, but it wasn’t his spell that hit Basil in the face! It was mine!”

Poppy held her head high but she could feel tears welling in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, knowing this was neither the place nor the time. She had to have more decorum than this. She was about to be a debutant for Merlin’s sake! But seeing Atticus sitting there, so open, so loving, her great protector in all her follies, Poppy couldn’t help herself. Tears started pouring out and streaming down her face. Closing them and quickly bringing a napkin up to dab the tears away, she sucked in a shaky breath. Why was she always so much trouble to those she loved!

---

Atticus Foxwood

---

  

---

© Fox

Poppy began to speak and Atticus pulled one of the scones in front of him, taking a bite as she blurted out words he hadn’t expected. He nearly choked on the bite but managed to swallow around it. Why in the hell hadn’t Basil mentioned that tidbit when he’d be home last weekend? His eyebrows furrowed together but he would deal with that little tidbit later. Atticus then honed in on a name he hadn’t heard in a decade, and a professor nonetheless. Augustus Lissington couldn’t teach his way out of a paper bag and he could only imagine some of the iditoic things that came out of his mouth. Of course he couldn’t tell Poppy that, not when she seemed to believe he’d done something well in terms of protecting her. If he was a part of it there was no doubt in the eldest Foxwood’s mind that he was the cause of it.

Memories of a freshly graduated Basil forced his way into his mind. Holding him, running his fingers through his hair, shushing him as he tried to coax the details out of him; Atticus could never get the entire truth but he wasn’t daft. He’d seen the way Lissington had looked at Basil and it was a way no man should ever look at another. And from the way his brother had been torn up about it, he could only assume the sentiments, to a degree, had been returned. But he wasn’t here to focus on that right now. He’d deal with Lissington later, instead choosing to turn his attention back toward his dear cousin.

“I’d certainly like to hit him with a spell right now,” he found himself murmuring as he turned his attention back toward her. Tears pricked against the corner of her eyes and Atticus stood before he could think better of it and moved toward her. He couldn’t place blame on her for feeling guilty for hurting anyone; Poppy, for all her flaws, always tried to do the right thing. His hand settled against her back before he was squatting next to her to pull her into an awkward hug.

Atticus hated to see his cousin cry. “Hey now. It’s ok.” Atticus cooed softly at her. His fingers brushed through her hair before he pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. “When I saw him he was as chipper as ever. He’s fine Poppy.” Even if he’d noticed something a bit off about his brother that weekend he surely wasn’t going to mention it to her. “Besides, who could forget about you?” No one. Poppy Dashwood was a gem and while excited to see her debut, he wasn’t excited to help deal with the riffraff of those who wished to court her.

---

Poppy Dashwood

---

The following 1 user Likes Atticus Foxwood's post:1 user Likes Atticus Foxwood's post
   Poppy Dashwood

---

Poppy couldn’t even be scandalized when Atticus stood and made a great scene of coming over to comfort her in the middle of the Ivy Leaf. All she wanted in that moment was to wrap her arms around her cousin and bawl like a child into his lapels. Obviously she couldn’t quite do that here, so she settled for letting him wrap his arms awkwardly around her and leaning into him while she tried not to sniff too loudly. His voice was both soothing and triggering, making Poppy bite her lip, hard. She didn’t deserve his sweet sentiments and tears continued to flow silently.

She tried to nod as Atticus praised her and told her that Basil was just fine. It took a good moment but eventually, dabbing her cheeks again with her napkin, the girl managed to stop the torrential downpouring of tears. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out again shakily. Well, that had certainly been a disgrace. Just one more to add to her list of recent failings. Poppy tried to cover up her despair with a laugh, but the usually tinkling little ring came out sounding feeble and fake. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to make a scene.”

Picking up her teacup and taking a sip, more for something to do than out of actual desire, Poppy closed her eyes for a moment. She lingered on the scent of rose that permeated her senses and the warm burning sensation of hot water on her tongue. It was grounding in its subtle way; there wasn’t anything in this world a good cup of hot tea couldn’t fix. She set the cup down gently and looked back towards her cousin. “I know he won’t say much to me on the matter, but does he really seem alright?” She asked, quietly. “He wasn’t accepting visitors at the infirmary but the nurse mentioned he’d actually bled out of one ear!” Poppy wrung her hands together miserably. “I feel so guilty that it was all by my own fault.”

---

Atticus Foxwood

---

  

---

© Fox

Poppy seemed to settle enough that Atticus didn’t feel the need to keep her wrapped in his arms. He pressed a soft kiss against her temple (no matter how faux pas it was in a public setting!) before he moved to take a seat back across from her. He sipped his tea and allowed her more time to compose her; at least with a subtle look around it appeared they hadn’t drawn any attention. Then he wrapped his hands around the cup and hummed quietly. “Please don’t apologize for expressing your emotions. It’s never a good thing to keep them bottled up.” He and Basil had done it - look at where it had gotten them. Course and tense, things between the pair just seemed to be easing although he was certain the distance had something to do with it.

Then he chuckled quietly as his dear cousin asked for reassurance on his dear brother’s health. “Poppy, he came in with a sing-song voice and spent the entire weekend mocking me. I was stuck with purple hair for a week.” His lips curved into a smile. “I promise you Basil is fine.” The blood from the ears was worrisome and he was going to have a word with his baby brother for hiding things from him, but that wasn’t a here or now. And it certainly wasn’t going to drop off Poppy before curfew and we only have a few minutes to argue matter either. He was going to let Basil know that he knew about this little trip to the infirmary and how disappointed he was to have started up his little…friendship with Lissington again.

(He had ideas to deal with that little problem too.)

“What can I take off your plate?” Atticus asked before he took another sip of his tea. It was too bitter, but he’d still drink it. “I’m sure between graduation and debuting, you have a lot. Let me help you.” And what he couldn’t do he was sure mum would be happy to help with.

---

Poppy Dashwood

---

  

---

Blushing brilliantly like the right child she appeared being kissed by an elder cousin, in public no less!, Poppy ducked her a head a touch. She appreciated Atticus’ affections, and his always caring for her, but soon the two of them would have to adjust to her being a proper, debuted young lady. Such things could easily be misconstrued and she balked at the very idea. How wretched it was going to be to have to keep him at a distance… Poppy resolved in that moment not to do so. Let people talk; Atticus was practically the older brother she never had and she was not going to pretend otherwise. She nodded at his wise words and took another sip from her teacup.

At Atticus’ story about his purple hair, she couldn’t help but finally crack a smile. Well, if Basil was well enough to be torturing him with childish pranks like hair transfiguration, then she supposed he must be just as well. She still had a horrible pit in her stomach at the idea of ever hurting him, but perhaps... he would be alright after all. (She still wanted to get him a little something today, just to be sure.) When Atticus mentioned her debut however, Poppy felt a fresh wave of nausea hit her and she ducked into her tea again. “I don’t need help,” she said, almost too quietly to be heard. It was unlike Poppy to be so… reserved, especially with Atticus, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to really discuss her debut with him, or anyone, yet. And the exciting parts of it, like her dress and the decorations, would bore him to pieces. He might be a miracle of an older brother, but even the most attentive gentleman glazed over with talk of frocks and flowers. She decided to change topics.

“I do, however, have another confession…” Poppy set her teacup back on its saucer gently and looked up at Atticus then, all abashed reservation and nervous energy. “Please don’t be angry!” She said hastily. “But I… I may have done something, on your behalf.” She offered him a sheepish smile, hoping Atticus wouldn’t frown too terribly.

---

Atticus Foxwood

---

  

---

© Fox

Atticus could still see the turmoil that was cleanly written across Poppy’s face; he didn’t know the extent of what she’d done to Basil, although given how chipper his brother had been, found he didn’t care for the finer details. Not from her at least. He’d drag them out of the other man if he absolutely needed to although at this point he could only assume it was done and dusted; next time Basil visited him he’d accost him for the details.

Poppy, on the other hand, seemed to be having another emotional struggle over her debut although Atticus couldn’t blame her. He’d only attended them and without a little sister for mother to truly fret over, wouldn’t ever come to understand the inner workings of what hosting one would entail. He didn’t care, not in the long run, and if Poppy had decided to speak to him about the matter he would have listened, although perhaps not offered too much advice. (And if she’d actually tried to task him with something? The audacity! He was sure one of the staff members would have been thrilled to help him help Poppy, or even Mama would have stepped in before Atticus would muck something up for her.)

Chuckling quietly, the brunette took a small sip of his tea before he finally picked up the scone to take a bite of it. It had a small burst of orange that he was surprised he enjoyed. The girl then had a small outburst and he could only raise an eyebrow at her before he pursed his lips together. Whatever Poppy had done on his behalf didn’t seem like something he’d be thrilled about, and while he loved his dear cousin it didn’t mean he couldn’t be annoyed at her. Atticus couldn’t recall a time he’d be angry with her, but there was a first time for everything.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” He finally replied with a sigh after a beat of silence. “But, please continue.” Atticus pursed his lips together as he watched his cousin carefully. She was a bundle of nerves today and he could only wonder how much energy she had cooped up - she would explode in the worst kind of way at the worst possible moment if she didn’t allow herself any reprise. Atticus pursed his lips together. She was still at Hogwarts, still hadn’t debuted. What possibly could she done on his behalf to anger him?

---

Poppy Dashwood

---

  

---

Poppy felt that familiar niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach; the feeling that warned her a scolding was potentially on the way. She tried her best to ignore it and instead dug around in her bag for something. She averted her gaze entirely from her cousin’s blue one and pulled out three carefully kept letters and one single cut out from the Lonely Hearts portion of Witch Weekly. Then, smoothing them even more so they were quite pristine, Poppy slid the articles between tea cups, saucers and scones to Atticus.

“I... I placed an advertisement in Witch Weekly on your behalf.” She announced. “There were quite a few responses, each of them excellent young ladies determined to meet you.” Here she risked a glance at her cousin’s face and hoped there wouldn’t be absolute fire in his eyes. She pressed onwards. “I met with two of them, and I think both ladies are wonderfully matched for your unique position and personality. Not to mention, I think I might even get along with them if you were to chose one for a wife.” Because that was the most important thing here, really.

Poppy paused, letting Atticus take in the clipping, the letters, and her statements. She’d only selected a few of the letters from each lady to include in the package: those that showed the most class and breeding. She knew Atticus would not simply accept her word for it, and so Poppy had thought ahead to bring these with her. It would both smooth the blow to be entirely transparent, and - hopefully - pique his interest enough in one of the two lovely ladies. Another silent heartbeat passed.

“Please don’t be vexed,” Poppy reiterated then, in a very soft, squeaky voice. “I only want you to be happy.”

---

Atticus Foxwood

---

  

---

© Fox

Atticus didn’t read Witch Weekly, especially not the Lonely Hearts portion. It was almost embarrassing to be put out there for the world to see, as if they were a failure in finding love elsewhere. Sure Atticus hadn’t asked many women to meet him outside of meeting them at societal events, but no one truly garnered any interest from him. He didn’t know what he was looking for, he just knew what he wasn’t. Poppy must have been speaking to mama, who seemed to be wholly concerned that he was almost thirty-one and didn’t have a wife and a child yet.

With a sigh he reached forward and took first the article into his hands, skimming over the words with his lips pressed together. He understood Poppy’s intention but it didn’t stop the annoyance from bubbling up in his gut. There was a pregnant pause as he contemplated his next set of words; he was irritated with her for overstepping her bounds but he swallowed the words to keep from snapping at her. Poppy was already bubbling over the edge with emotion and Atticus wouldn’t be the reason she felt worse going than when she came. “I don’t suppose you placed one for Basil too? He swears Mama was behind it, but I think she may have had a little help.” He finally settled on. “He was as unamused with his letter as I am mine.” He’d leave out the scathing letter his brother had sent him - that was just between them.

Atticus slipped the ad behind one of the letters, where he again skimmed over the words. They were elegant and well-spoken, just as he'd expect from any upper-class woman worth their salt. A couple of the names he recognized, but none he could instantly put a face to, let alone a personality. With another sigh, he closed his eyes and breathed through his nose as Poppy continued to try to justify her actions. After a few more moments and another frown, Atticus slid the letters and the magazine clipping back toward her. “I”m not vexed, Poppy, just…” Annoyed? Disappointed? Displeased with his entire family dipping their fingers in places they didn’t belong?

He ground his teeth together before he shook his head, taking a long sip of the tea. It tasted bitter. “I will meet them once, for your sake of not looking like a fool.” He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, although it came out clipped. And maybe, if Poppy knew him well, like he thought she might, he might pursue something after.

---

Poppy Dashwood

---

  

---

Poppy couldn’t help but shrink back in her seat a touch at the look that crossed Atticus’ face. She knew he’d be angry; she’d known the minute she picked up her quill to write to Witch Weekly. She just hadn’t expected him to look quite so frustrated with her. It wasn’t a new look for Poppy though, not really. She frustrated and irritated Atticus as much as the next person. He wasn’t just her favorite cousin because he indulged her every whim. He made her a better person, he cared for and looked after her. But even Atticus had his limits and if saving her from making a drunken idiot out of herself over New Years had garnered the look, well this certainly would too.

Lifting her chin a touch, Poppy sipped her tea and tried to keep her hands from trembling noticeably. She was a little surprised at his first response, though she didn’t show it. Instead, she just shook her head gingerly. No. This had been her sole priority. Basil was a lost cause. Poppy looked down again at his expression of ‘lacking amusement.’ She knew he was… irritated, angry, probably all of the above. But she’d done it for his own good! A little help, a little shove in the right direction never hurt anyone! Trying to decide if she wanted to argue with him about it here, or just continue to wallow in self-pity, Poppy was surprised then as Atticus seemed to suddenly acquiesce. She frowned at him, decidedly.

“Well I wouldn’t want you to be put out on my account,” she said then, flatly. It was rude, and uncalled for, especially considering how understanding Atticus was being about - well - everything. Poppy dropped her gaze then and set her tea cup aside. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Hazel hues flickered up to meet brown. “I appreciate your indulgence, but I really do think one of them might be a good match for you! Don’t you trust me to know you, at all?”

---

Atticus Foxwood

---

  

---

© Fox