April 18th, 1890 — Swan Lake Ball
August Echelon-Arnost

Freya had to commend Ms. Zabini's ingenious in planning tonight's event. The dark ripples of water surrounding the pavilion set the perfect scene for the debutantes to shine. Most were, predictably, in impeccably designed white gowns, though there were a handful who (wisely) chose another color. The brilliant whites contrasted against the blackness beautifully, but with so many hopeful women dressed so similarly they more closely resembled sheep than swans. Few could stand out in such a flock, which, given what Freya knew of the Zabini's was likely the intended goal. The two unwed daughters had such a sorry scandal following them they undoubtedly needed any opportunity to shine if they ever hoped to marry.

Freya stood to side of the dance floor with a glass of champagne in hand. Daniel had, predictably, elected to remain home, but for once she hadn't pushed the issue. A celebration on the lake was such a rare event that she preferred the absence of her sulky husband. Behind her, the soft candlelight of Hogwarts reflected on the water, gifting her such a strong sense of nostalgia that all she could do was smile softly. The last few years were amongst the busiest and happiest of her life. She was so hopeful then, so full of excitement and expectations for her future. And Daniel...Daniel was different, then. He was willing to put in an effort, at least. They were so in love then that Daniel attended every event possible just to be with her for a few minutes.

Now, his love came with a different air. One Freya was convinced followed all married couples. One that left her dancing delicately on eggshells in her own home.

Determined not to allow her ire towards her husband ruin what would hopefully be a pleasant evening, she turned on her heel to take a turn about the room. She wouldn't dance — didn't dance with anyone but Daniel or his relatives, but it didn't mean she couldn't find a better position from which to watch the next set. Freya made it all of ten feet before spotting Mr. Echelon-Arnost. He mentioned possibly attending tonight's gala, but hadn't confirmed whether or not he would be in attendance. "Good evening." Freya greeted with a warm, polite smile as she moved closer to him. "I wasn't sure if the over idealistic shut-in would be joining us tonight." Her tone was light and teasing, a rare event for her as of late.

  

The thing about Thom's Quidditch parties - the reason, frankly, that August kept going to them - was that there was almost never dancing expected. This ball was interesting, sure, the colors contrasted and the music was inventive - but it was a ball. So he was mostly sipping champagne and feeling out of place.

He was standing towards the side of the pavilion, switching from small talk conversation to small talk conversation. The good thing he was learning was that people were less and less interested in Galina - he had almost reached the point where all of his small talk was normal.

When he saw Mrs. Selwyn, August smiled at her. The corners of his eyes crinkled up. "Mrs. Selwyn," he said, "You know, even shut-ins have to shake up expectations sometimes." His tone was equally light, and his expression turned sheepish and self-deprecating. 

---

  

Freya hid her amused smile behind her champagne glass. After taking a sip of the bubbly liquid she replied with, "I suppose so." Truthfully, after their brief mention of tonight's festivities in their letters Freya would've been disappointed if he hadn't come. There were so few genuine people in their world that his opinions — however liberal were a refreshing relief.

"And how is Lysander? Not annoying you with the chick, I hope?" It'd been a risk gifting the waddling, chirping chick to his ward, but Freya could think only of the fun she had with it. Each of her dear friend's children were gifted similar items, some chosen from her childhood selection and some purchased new. After four years of a childless marriage Freya was quickly realizing children weren't a blessing to be included in her marriage, which wasn't such a terrible thing. Subjecting a small child to Daniel's moods wouldn't be fair.

  

"Not yet," August said with a grin. "Although he does keep releasing it into my office." August had a lot of patience for Lysander's antics due to the circumstances of his birth and upbringing; he was, probably, lucky that his son was not prone to trouble, because August never would have been able to discipline him.

---

  

A familiar sense of nervousness crept up the back of her neck at his comment. Mr. Echelon-Arnost's expression lacked the cool contempt of her husband (he was, in fact, grinning) but Freya couldn't help but dread her new friend's change in mood. It'd been a presumptuous mistake gifting Lysander the chick, she knew that now. It was a mistake she wouldn't dare make again.

Freya's grip tightened around the stem of the champagne glass, but she ensured there were no other outward gestures that he might catch onto. Navigating dangerous moods was her specialty, after all. "There's a way to disenchant it, I believe." Freya commented lightly. "If the chirping does become troublesome, I mean."

  

"I don't think it will," August said, still in his easy manner. "Part of raising children is listening to their little joys - why would I disenchant it?"

---

  

Her hand relaxed on the stem of her glass. Perhaps Mr. Echelon-Arnost was like her husband in hiding his cool demeanor until marriage. It was the safe route, after all. Had Freya known what she was walking into with Daniel she might have second guessed herself.

"You shouldn't." Freya responded as lightly as she could manage. "Some aren't as overjoyed with the fun of childhood as others is all."

  

August grinned again. "I suppose you're right," he said, "But perhaps my large family helps again. Three of my siblings are younger." If his son was as much of a creature as Siegfried had been in childhood, August probably would have felt differently about it.

---

  

"Are they much younger?" She asked before taking a sip of her champagne. It would make sense that he enjoyed the laughter of a child if he had grown up in some sort of responsible role over his younger siblings.

  

August shrugged. "The youngest is six years younger than me," he explained, "Which is not a lot in adulthood, but felt like a great deal when we were young."

---

  

She nodded in acknowledgement. The age difference didn't explain his kind temperament. At least, not in a way Freya could presently understand. All she knew was codependency and cruelty, not kindness for the sake of it.

"I can only imagine." Freya replied wistfully. It must've been nice to have grown up with company. "Do any of them have children to keep Lysander company? It must be a very different sort of childhood than what you're accustomed to."

  

August nodded. "But Lysander mostly spends his time with Mr. Pettigrew's children," he said, because his siblings with children tended to be the crazy ones. Well, Lysander spent a lot of time with Leo, too, but it was best not to get into the Elsbeth Situation with a friendly acquaintance.

"I'm talking too much about myself, though," August said, "Tell me something about your childhood. If you don't mind, of course."

---

  

The only Pettigrew safe mentioning in such a setting (not that Mr. Echelon Arnost seemed to particularly care for the relative comforts of social safety) had to be Mr. Thom Pettigrew. Freya knew little of him outside of the basics, though his wife used to be a common topic amongst her circles. Mrs. Pettigrew was yet another odd recluse. Sometimes, back when her marriage was still new and she was unaccustomed to Daniel's temperament, Freya thought he would've been better off with someone as ... mundane as Mrs. Pettigrew.

"How lovely. It's great to have companions." She said. Lysander was far luckier than herself, in any regard. Mama always kept her close, too afraid of the shadows to allow her to stray far. "I grew up in the country, my Mother almost never came to town." Freya said with a slight shrug. "It's a very different world there...quieter, peaceful." Daniel would never consent to moving away from London, much as Freya sometimes yearned for it. "It's where I learned my love of gardening."

  

The country could mean a lot of things, but August decided not to say that - he was learning more about her now than he had in their entire conversation so far, so he could not poke fun at her now.

He smiled instead. "What do you garden?" he asked, "I took N.E.W.T. Herbology but haven't really planted anything since, unfortunately." He knew people who gardened, women who gardened, mostly - but had never paid much attention to his garden as an adult. That was, perhaps, a shame.

---

  

"Oh, all sorts of things." She answered animatedly. Her garden was her solace, her one place to escape Daniel when she needed. "Predictably, I have a small rose garden, though they are a far cry from some of our peers' roses." Especially now after having neglected the bushes in the winter months. It would take time to get her roses back to their previous standard.

She took a sip of her champagne and continued, "I also grow various vegetables and herbs, magical and not. It helps to have a greenhouse."

  

August sipped his champagne while he listened. "I've never lived anywhere with a greenhouse," he admitted, "Is yours magical?" Some people were doing very interesting things these days with greenhouses, or so he'd heard. Gardening to that extent was not the most average hobby for an upper class wife; perhaps he had underestimated her.

---