#pavarti daly

[dhr-ao3]

Her Begging

Her Begging https://ift.tt/iD5WQ8N by SilkySythine Hermione was caught, and now she is begging for Draco’s forgiveness. He loves her begging, he forces her guilty admission before allowing her to climax by his hand. single chapter with zero plot, inspired by a favorite chapter in a dramione classic. Words: 980, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, Pavarti Daly Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Inappropriate Use of Malfoy Signet Ring (Harry Potter), Malfoy Signet Ring (Harry Potter), Begging, Tears, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Fingerfucking, Teasing, Light Dom/sub, Semi-Public Sex, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Forced Orgasm, Not Beta Read via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/ejGLUcf October 20, 2024 at 04:44PM

[storyofmychoices]

SpreadJoy #699: spreading positivity with quotes and @playchoices characters.

Quote in edit by Lady Bluebottle

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Afterthoughts

Author's note: It took me awhile to write it, but I did it. Fair warning: there's no real romantic interaction here, but I promise it'll be worthwhile. Thank you @noesapphic for all the tips on Sinclaire's characterization ❤️ [Leading characters are owned by Pixelberry Studios and original characters are creations of this author]

Book: Desire & Decorum (modern day AU) Characters: Ernest Sinclaire, F!OC (Alisha), Briar Daly, Parvati Daly, Lydia Sinclaire. Rating: T Word count: 2995 Reading time: ~12min Summary: An odd encounter with Ernest Sinclaire makes Alisha wonder if all the rumors she heard about him are true. Based on the prompt: Yesterday

The smell of wild berries spread in the air of the large kitchen as Alisha finished the jam that would be used as filling for many of the desserts she prepared at Mrs. Daly's bakery. Smiling proudly, she inspected the color, texture, scent and taste of the jam and placed it inside the jar where it would cool down before it could be properly stored. She always enjoyed preparing the best and most sophisticated dishes. Yet, only a few things were as simple and satisfying as preparing wild berries jam.

"Ah, I love this smell!" Mrs. Daly sighed contently as she walked into the kitchen.

"Me too." Alisha beamed as her boss approached her station.

"How's everything here, Alli?"

"So far so good. The morning was so calm I had time to prepare laminated dough and jam."

"Excellent." Pavarti nodded as she grabbed her apron and tied it around her waist. "I'm going to start preparing buttercream and the cookie dough for later. You can go out for your lunch break now, dear."

"Thank you, Mrs. Daly," Alisha replied, removing her gloves and apron before reaching for a small bowl with vanilla cake crumbs and vanilla pastry cream. Then with a ladle, she added some of the jam on top and beamed. "For dessert."

"Of course." Pavarti grinned. "Enjoy your meal and your break!"

"Thank you!" Alisha waved to her boss and headed towards the staff changing room to grab her bag and leave for lunch.

The minute she stepped outside the bakery, a pouring rain started. The cook opened her umbrella and heaved a sigh. She didn't bring lunch today in hopes to have a nice fresh meal at her favorite restaurant, that, unfortunately, was over four blocks away. But to get there, she'd have to face the rain. Still, the meal there was worth the walk and getting wet. Buttoning her coat, she crossed the street and made her way to the restaurant.

During her walk, Alisha sighed in relief as she admired the tranquility of the streets. Coming from cities as big and populous as Mumbai, London and Paris, moving to Edgewater was a big change for her. Despite the incessant rainy days, she was easily adjusting to the county's quaintness.

As she found herself near the restaurant, a black sports car passed by slowly. For a moment, the driver reminded her of a very specific customer of Mrs. Daly's bakery, but she dismissed the thought quickly. "No way a rich dude like him would come here..." She scoffed and headed inside the small Indian restaurant.

"Hey Alli! Welcome back!" The hostess smiled at her.

"Hi, Brinda! Is Divya cooking today?"

"No... She's out of town to get those special supplies from our elusive spices distributor."

"Oh, that sucks... I was hoping to have her murgh makhani¹ today," Alisha nagged.

"Rahul can prepare the instant pot version, if you want."

"How instant we're talking about?"

"Twenty-seven minutes."

"All right, I'll give him a shot. But if he blows it, I'll rat him out to chef Laghari," Alisha joked.

"Oh, you're mean!"

The two of them giggled, but as a customer approached, the hostess cleared her throat and checked her list. "Table seven is ready for you, Alisha."

"Okay, Thanks, Brinda! Have a good day of work." Alisha smiled politely.

"Have a nice meal!" The hostess nodded and proceeded to greet the other customer.

Taking a seat on the table on the quietest corner, Alisha sipped her nimbu ka sharbat whilst she waited for her dish when her eyes landed on the customer a few tables away from her. Apparently, she wasn't mistaken. It was the same rich customer she saw from time to time at Mrs. Daly's Bakery. The one Briar hated.

Alone at his table, he watched the rain fall. This must have been the third time she ever met him, but ever since the first time, something about the way presented himself and from what Daphne told her gave her the impression he wasn't as awful as Briar described. Perhaps, it was his stern demeanour, the unsmiling expression. Or maybe his eventual sullen glances, especially when his ex-girlfriend's name was mentioned. And at the moment, sitting by himself and looking out the window on that awfully cold day, he seemed sadder, tired, as if he was carrying a burden on his own.

It didn't take long until a tall glass of what seemed to be a drink similar to hers arrived at his table. Alisha arched an eyebrow. He is either very brave or he doesn't know what he's in for.

And just as she expected, he was clueless. As he sipped the drink, his face went red and he coughed in response to the first drink. He certainly didn't expect a limeade to be so spicy. She then fought back a chuckle and called a waiter.

Just a minute later, the waiter placed a glass of strawberry lassi on his table. Watching from afar, Alisha chortled when he didn't protest much after the waiter apologised for not informing him about the spices and said it'd help ease the fiery sensation in his mouth.

She then proceeded to savor her drink, answer a few messages from work and uni group chats. Distracted, she didn't notice when the man stood up and made his way to her table.

"Good afternoon, miss."

Alisha put her phone down and looked at him. "Good afternoon. Sorry... I got a little distracted here."

"It's all right. I just want to thank you for sending the milk-based drink to my table."

"No problem. I figured the waiter didn't warn you that most of the drinks here are made with strong spices."

"He didn't. But it was an honest mistake." He squared his shoulders. "Anyway, I'm here to thank you for sending me the strawberry lassi, but I'm not comfortable with strangers paying anything for me, so you could please—"

"Wait... What?" She looked at him incredulously.

"I'm here to return whatever you paid for the drink."

"Why? Because a woman paid for it?" She arched her eyebrow.

"No. I simply don't accept anything from someone I barely know. That's why."

"Oh really? Are you always arrogant when you respond to kind gestures? Is it just with strange women?" She arched an eyebrow.

"I—" He stopped himself as he finally understood what she meant. "Excuse me?"

"What? Can't someone be nice to you without ulterior motives?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He looked visibly uncomfortable with it and though it seemed like his reaction was uncalled for, it hit her. He truly didn't expect a genuine act of kindness. Alisha frowned at the thought. And suddenly, she understood. It wasn't her place to judge him.

"My apologies, sir. I didn't mean to be inconvenient. I was just trying to help. I'll call the waiter and ask them to remove it from my check and add it to yours."

His forehead creased in surprise, but it quickly dissolved to his neutral and somewhat aloof expression. "Thank you."

She replied with a nod and signaled for the waiter to approach her table.

Once the bills were altered, he followed the waiter to pay his and Alisha stayed at the table fiddling with her glass. What could possibly have happened to this man to make him so guarded? It wasn't her place to ask. Yet, she couldn't help but wonder why.

The next day

"Typical..." Briar huffed as she leaned on the counter next to Alisha.

"Really?" Alisha held her piping bag midair to look at the young woman next to her. "I get it. Some people are introverted and don't want to draw attention or feel like socializing. But all I did was to pay him a milk based drink to help with the burning sensation. It's not like we were in a bar and I sent an alcoholic drink as an excuse to hit on him."

"Yeah, but we're talking about the 'almighty and perfect Mr. Sinclaire'." Briar gestured her fingers to make air quotes. "He wouldn't accept a drink from someone he doesn't know well."

"But he doesn't really think every act has a hidden agenda. Does he?" Alisha frowned.

"I don't know..." Briar took a moment to consider what Alisha said. "I was never his biggest fan, so don't expect me to defend him. But given my friends' experiences among gentry folk, it's understandable if he feels that way about people in general."

Alisha nodded in understanding. Briar didn't have to say much for the cook to know. Like many other British citizens, she was aware of what happened between Mr. Sinclaire and Daphne, even if not in so many details. But now that Briar mentioned, his reaction made sense.

"But I still would've given anything to see him look red as a tomato because he forgot to ask how much spice a traditional Indian Spiced Limeade has," Briar sniggered.

"You're cruel, Briar," Alisha commented between giggles.

The two of them continued to chat in the kitchen when the phone rang. Briar picked up the phone before it rang for the third time whilst Alisha returned to decorating the cake.

"Good morning. Mrs. Daly's Sweets. How can I help you? Oh, hello Mrs. Davies! Just a second." Briar picked up the chefs' appointment book and looked through the pages. "Yes, we can book chef Hastings for you on Saturday."

Alisha's head snapped to the side and she mouthed to Briar. "Who is it?"

"Ledford Park house manager," Briar muttered.

Alisha's deep brown eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm sure that won't be a problem, Mrs. Davies. She will be delighted to prepare those desserts." Briar replied as she wrote down the order. "All right, ma'am. I have written down the requests, and I'll pass them along to chef Hastings. Thank you so much. Have a sweet day," she said, putting the phone back on its base station.

"Did you just book me as personal chef for the Sinclaires?"

"I had to. They specifically requested your services."

"Really?" Her brows furrowed in confusion. "I thought all traditional families preferred to work with a chef they already knew."

"The Master of Ledford Park does know you." Briar gave her a knowing look.

Alisha narrowed her eyes, but dismissed any assumptions quickly as she turned back to the counter to finish her work. "Fine by me. It's not like I can dismiss a job anyway."

"You say it as if you weren't bloody rich..." Briar scoffed.

"I'm not rich. My parents are." Alisha corrected. "Besides, I don't want to build my career based on my family connections."

"I don't see why you can't use those family connections in your favour, but whatever. As long as you come back with juicy gossip from the Sinclaires..." Briar grinned slyly.

Alisha pursed her lips, trying to fight back a smile. "I need to finish this cake, Briar."

"You know you don't have to stop on my account, Alli. Do go on. In the meantime, I'll check the news on Pictagram and Twitter to keep us entertained." Briar fished her phone out of her pocket and tapped the screen opening social media apps.

"Are you really going to read the news or just the gossip blogs?" Alisha glanced at Briar from the corner of her eye.

"Wait... Do you mean there are profiles of boring news media websites on Pictagram?" Briar mockingly gasped.

Shaking her head, Alisha simply cackled whilst Briar scrolled through the phone and began to read the news.

Saturday afternoon

Alisha carefully inspected the first layer of the cake when soft steps echoed in the sumptuous kitchen of Ledford Park.

"Mrs. Davies, you'll have to forgive me, but I don't think my kitchen has ever smelled so good," Lydia Sinclaire said as she approached the island.

Alisha discreetly glanced at the woman then looked back at the cake. Her tall and elegant figure, gray eyes and the brown hair styled in a classic and refined updo reminded the cook of the other owner of the house.

"It's all right, Mrs. Sinclaire. I quite agree," Mrs. Davies replied, glancing at the young cook.

"Thank you, Mrs. Sinclaire. That's very kind of both of you," Alisha smiled at both women and continued to decorate the cake.

"I'm just stating facts, dear. Your dishes look like sculptures. When I first saw that croquembouche you prepared for Lord Vincent's Christmas feast, it almost felt wrong to destroy that work of art just to eat."

"Please don't be. My dishes are prepared to impress my clients and their guests, but my biggest goal is for everyone to find them delightful," Alisha replied as she carefully added another layer of the cake.

Mrs. Sinclaire chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind whenever I'm alone with a piece of this gorgeous opera aux framboises you're finishing. But right now, I have to ask." The woman glanced to the sides suspiciously and lowered her voice. "Is that wonderful chocolate mousse ready?"

"The top drawer of the refrigerator has a container with mousse just for the house owners," Alisha muttered.

Mrs. Sinclaire smiled as she opened the refrigerator and picked up a glass food container with black and white chocolate mousse. "I'll come back when the guests arrive."

"Of course, ma'am." Alisha nodded.

Mrs. Sinclaire then grabbed a spoon and disappeared into the hallway.

Hours passed by like a blur to Alisha once the guests arrived. After the three-course meal was served and the kitchen was clean, the cook prepared a traditional English tea for the Sinclaires and their guests. Once tea and biscuits were served, she stepped outside carrying her trusty tea flask and sat down on a bench.

The night had deepened when she gave herself a moment to rest. A cold wind blew against her olive skin and her body finally began to respond to the six hours standing up and walking around the kitchen. Yet, she has had no complaints. Another dinner was successfully served, and the night in the countryside of Edgewater was lovely. Pouring herself a cup of masala chai, she inhaled the aroma of the drink and smiled before savoring it as she watched the stars.

"Isn't it too cold to be out here, Miss Hastings?" Mr. Sinclaire's voice cut through the chirping of the crickets and croaks of frogs.

"Not really," she said, raising her cup.

He glanced at the content of the cup and pointed to the tea flask. "May I?"

"By all means." She grabbed an extra cup and poured chai for him as he sat next to her.

"Is it spicy?" He asked once he received the cup.

"Yes."

"How much?"

"The right amount."

"Is that so?" He cocked an eyebrow. "How do I know if I can trust you?"

"You don't." She gave her shoulders and grinned. "You'll just have to take a leap of faith."

Mr. Sinclaire narrowed his eyes and sipped the hot drink. Much to his surprise, he was delighted to realise how the spices blended so well into the black tea and milk. "Indeed it's the right amount."

"I'm glad you approve, sir."

He took another sip and glanced down at his mug. "Miss Hastings, I want to apologize for how I reacted the other day."

Her head whipped to the side and stared at him in disbelief. "You do?"

"Yes. It was rude of me to respond to you the way I did."

"It's all right, sir."

"Thank you." He nodded, appraising the woman beside him for a moment. "Can I ask you a question, Miss Hastings?"

"Sure," she said, still gazing at the sky.

"Your initial reaction wasn't so understanding, but you changed your mind rather fast. Why?"

"Because I put myself in other people's shoes from time to time. If that was your first reaction to a nice gesture, you must have had your reasons to react the way you did at the moment."

Mr Sinclaire looked down at his hands, fingers holding the cup tighter as all those thoughts he had that day came to surface again. "It certainly wasn't my best day."

"I figured as much. And I don't think it's my place to judge. Even if I can't avoid hearing gossip."

"I see Briar is keeping you up to speed."

"You could say that. But most of the time, I just focus on my work and let her talk."

"I admire your patience. Daphne couldn't concentrate on drawing or painting when Briar was near and they always ended up fighting." A ghost of a smile played on his lips, as if he could picture them right in front of him.

"She should try yoga then."

"You should tell her to try."

"I'm not that close to her, but if I ever have the opportunity, maybe I will."

Silence settled between them for a brief moment, then he cleared his throat. "Do you think she's happy?"

Alisha glanced at the man beside her. His usual aloof demeanor was completely gone. All she could see in his features was worry. The rumors about him aren't just rumors after all.

"As far as I know, yes. She seems to be happy."

"Good..." He nodded in resolution. "She deserves to be happy."

"We all do, sir." She gave him a knowing look.

Mr. Sinclaire nodded in agreement, but something about the muscles on his face tensed told Alisha otherwise.

He then stood up and turned to her. "Thank you for the chai, Miss Hastings."

"Oh, don't thank me. It'll be included in your bill."

His brows went up in surprise, but as she chortled, he shook his head. "I guess I deserved that."

"Yes, you do, sir."

Mr. Sinclaire shoved his hands in his pocket and turned to the door. But as he was about to go back inside, he looked at her. "Are you free next Thursday, Miss Hastings?"

"I have to check my schedule to confirm, but I think so."

"Let me know if you are before you leave."

"Of course, sir."

As he walked back inside, Alisha heaved a sigh and gazed at the idyllic view of Ledford Park backyard for a couple of minutes before she collected her things and went back to the kitchen.

____

¹ Indian butter chicken

[choicesmonthlychallenge]

day fourteen: firefly

[August Prompt List]  || [August Daily Masterlists]

⟢Desire & Decorum:⟢

Like the Fireflies [Briar & MC + their moms] by @princess-geek​​

⟢The Elementalists:⟢

Little Stars Brought to Earth [Beckett x MC] by @storyofmychoices​​ ⟢

SpreadJoy [Shreya Edit] by @storyofmychoices​

[kinda-iconic]

How shall I bear so much Happiness

This fanfic was written as an entry for Day One of the Desire and Decorum appreciation week...

Day One (July 31st prompt): Love Interest Day

Pairing: Ernest Sinclaire x MC

Summary: After the birth of their first child, Ernest begins to worry about Amelia’s health and the future of their family. 

Author’s note: This is my second fanfic for Sinclaire x MC, as the first got me rather emotional and I had to move on to fluffier things. I do apologise for any mistakes; this was written rather quickly, but I do hope that it is worth the read!

Tagging: @queerchoicesblog @melodyofgraves @octobereighth @choicesregencygeek @hellooliviaolivia @hellospunkiebrewster @mrsbriarmarlcaster

Ever since his engagement to Lady Amelia, Ernest had spent a great number of days picturing their future; he had high hopes as to what a marriage to his sweetheart would entail, but yet nothing worried him more than the concept of Amelia delivering a child. Although the idea of having a child with the woman he loved filled him with joy, he couldn’t help but feel apprehensive about subjecting her to that ordeal. This apprehensiveness only seemed to worsen when it was revealed that Amelia was with child and, as the days turned into months, his nervousness grew more unbearable. 

His mind continued to race with these thoughts as he sat outside their bedroom door, twiddling his thumbs pensively as he awaits the news that every expectant father dreams of. 

The birth of their first child.

It isn’t long before his train of thought is disrupted as Pavarti enters the corridor, shutting the bedroom door behind her. 

‘Ms Daly...’ he rises to his feet with urgency, adjusting his lapels as he approaches the young woman, his once calm demeanor replaced with concern and bewilderment. ‘What is it?’

She stays silent for a moment, fixing him with a curious gaze before taking in his appearance; his face is haggard, his golden hair tangled with knots from the sleepless night that he spent awaiting news of the birth. His clothes are creased, and Pavarti is able to make out the purplish marks under his eyes, further evidence of his refusal to rest. She meets him with a joyful smile, her eyes gleaming with happiness and contempt. 

‘I believe that congratulations are in order, My Lord,’ her smile widens, and Ernest is soon able to sense the true extent of her excitement through the giddiness in her voice, ‘today is a glorious day.’

‘Has she...’ he hesitates for a moment, taking the time to correct his words, ‘has Lady Amelia delivered the child?’

‘She most certainly has,’ the young woman turns away from him for a moment, reaching down to grasp the door handle before addressing him over her shoulder. 

‘Would you like to come and meet your daughter, Mr Sinclaire?’

He gazes back at her, his eyes widening in merriment as he processes the news of the birth; he runs a gentle hand across his face, the reality of fatherhood filling him with immense pride and aspiration for the future.

‘I...I have a daughter?’

‘Aye Sir, and an adorable one at that,’ she takes a step forward, bowing her head before meeting his gaze once more, her eyes now glistening with tears of gaiety; ‘and I can tell you now, My Lord... she is the spitting image of Amelia.’ 

She pries the door open, stepping to the side of the entryway before gesturing to the room before her.

‘Well?’ She pushes on the wood, allowing the young man to put his mind at ease as his eyes soon befall on his wife, sitting adjacent to him as she rests in their marriage bed, ‘are you going to remain out here all day, or are you going to introduce yourself to your little girl?’

                                 ------------------------------------------------------

He enters the room, his nose inhaling the familiar scent of honey and rosemary as he takes in his surroundings; the room is darker than usual, the heavy drapes drawn across the windows, preventing any light from entering the room. Amelia sits in the middle of the bed, her arms draped protectively over the small bundle that lay nestled in her arms. 

‘Amelia...’ he wanders over to the bed with haste, kneeling down at her side as he takes in her appearance; her skin is clammy, her long dark hair cascading down her shoulders, a few brown curls sticking to her cheeks and forehead. He swiftly takes her hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze as he gazes adoringly at his wife; she nestles the infant in her arms, its tiny frame wrapped delicately in a bundle of cloth. He lowers his eyes to look upon his daughter, her precious features illuminated by the glow of candlelight before glancing back at his wife, reaching forward to caress her cheek. ‘Oh my darling...’

She smiles fondly back at him, her tired eyes alerting him of her exhaustion as she weakly leans into his touch before focusing her attention on the infant. 

‘She’s so beautiful,’ she slowly removes her hand from her husband’s grasp, her fingers entangling themselves in the cloth. She gently cups the child’s face in her palm, running her hand delicately through the baby’s dark hair, ‘like an English rose in the Spring.’

‘As are you, my sweetheart,’ he inclines his head towards her, pressing a soft kiss to Amelia’s cheek, ‘you were truly wonderful...’

‘Indeed she was, My Lord,’ Pavarti crosses the room in an instant, placing a cold compress to Ameila’s forehead, ‘and I hope that I’m not speaking out of turn, but M’Lady was remarkable,’ she meets Amelia with a reminiscent smile, ‘I do believe that her mother would be so very proud.’ 

‘I...’ Amelia stutters, her breathing soft yet labored as she continues to recover from the delivery, ‘I cannot begin to describe how much it means to hear you say that, Ms Daly,’ she outstretches a hand towards Pavarti, placing it delicately on her forearm. ‘Thank you...truly.’

‘There’s no need to thank me, my dear,’ she smiles warmly at her, interlacing her fingers with hers. ‘I thought that it was only fitting to guide you through it like I guided your mother, all those moons ago,’ she removes herself from the young woman’s grasp, meeting her with a euphoric expression, ‘and it’s Pavarti to you, Amelia... ‘Ms Daly’ makes us sound like nothing more than acquaintances.’

‘Of course, I’m sorry.’

‘Hush now, don’t apologise,’ she reaches forward, easing Amelia’s hair off of her shoulder before dabbing at her skin with the sodden cloth, ‘this is a time for celebration, my sweet, not one for worrying over trivial things...’

Amelia regards her with a weak smile. ‘You are certainly correct,’ she adjusts her position, a subtle wince emanating from her lips, ‘that is a matter that can be resolved another day.’

A quiet giggle emerges from Pavarti’s lips, her eyes never leaving the pair before she makes her way over to the other side of the bed, pulling at the sheets as she tries to ensure Amelia’s comfort. They all stay silent for a while, but it isn’t long before Ernest breaks the tranquility, the topic of conversation soon turning to the infant as she remains nestled in her mother’s arms, her dainty fingers clasped tightly around Amelia’s thumb. 

‘Is the child healthy?’

‘Yes,’ Pavarti nods, ‘both Mother and Child are doing exceptionally well; there were a few minor complications, but M’Lady was not having any nonsense.’

‘Minor complications?’ He turns to face his wife, a troubled expression resonating on his face. ‘My dearest... are you alright?’

‘Yes Ernest,’ she whispers softly to him, her gaze drifting to rest upon their daughter’s face, ‘you need not worry about me.’ 

‘I will always worry about you,’ he chuckles slightly, one hand resting beneath the child whilst the other finds its way to the nape of his wife’s neck, ‘you are my wife after all... and now the mother of my child.’

She meets him with a comforting smile.

‘That’s rather endearing of you, my love, but I promise you that I am alright.’

‘Amelia speaks the truth,’ Pavarti chimes, ‘I can assure you that M’Lady is strong, and not one that is easily defeated.’

‘Forgive me, Ms Daly, but you seem to be making childbirth sound like a war.’

‘In a way it is, Sir; there is beauty in it, yes, but for a woman, childbirth can be ever so complicated,’ she moves around to the foot of the bed, smoothing out the creases of her skirt, ‘a lady can have the most pleasant of pregnancies, but in the end, only God knows what is in store for the mother or even the child during the delivery.’ She sighs wistfully, ‘Amelia, though met with some rather unsavory issues, managed to deliver in good health.’ She reaches down to straighten the bed-sheets, her eyes glistening with sorrow. ‘Unfortunately, that is something that cannot be said for everyone.’ 

Ernest soon notices her discomfort, his next utterance blanketed by sincerity. ‘Forgive me for asking,’ he rises to his feet, taking a step towards the older woman, ‘I never meant to cause any pain...’

‘Bless you, My Lord,’ she meets him with a warm smile, wiping at her eyes as she begins to sniffle, ‘I can assure you that you did nothing of the sort.’ 

‘As long as you are certain.’

‘Indeed I am,’ she swiftly regains her composure, ‘now, I must take my leave; you both deserve some time alone with one another and the child...’ she ponders over to Amelia’s side, running a gentle hand through Amelia’s curls before turning her attention to Ernest, ‘I cannot imagine how grueling this whole ordeal has been for you, My Lord; not being able to be present at the birth.’

‘Not as grueling as it was for Amelia, I would imagine,’ he takes Amelia’s hand in his, planting a tender kiss to her knuckles, ‘but it was rather difficult to stay outside whilst everything was happening in here.’

‘I can believe that,’ she smiles fondly at the couple before lowering her head, collecting the bowl and cloth from the table, ‘now I really must go.’

Amelia straightens her posture, pushing herself forward so that she is sitting upright in the bed. She tries to move her hips, but it isn’t long before her body stiffens, a soft wince emanating from her lips. She opens her mouth to speak, forcing out her words through the pain. 

‘Do you really have to go?’

‘Oh my dear,’ she rushes forward, placing a pillow behind the young woman to support her lower back, ‘you need to take considerable care of yourself; you’ve just delivered your first child... your body is still recovering and it will be a while before you can do anything strenuous.’ She smiles sadly at her, ‘if you push yourself too hard, then you might hurt yourself more.’

‘Ms Daly is right, Amelia,’ he places a comforting hand on her waist, ‘now it is time for you to rest and to focus on your recovery.’

‘But do you...do you really need to leave?’

‘I don’t want to intrude on a precious moment,’ she tucks the cloth underneath her arm, ‘you don’t want little old me getting in the way, do you? This is a moment reserved for family, my sweet...’

‘But you are my family...’

Her gaze softens as she looks back at her, ‘and you are so much like your mother; kind-hearted and full of nothing but happiness and light,’ she turns away from her, slowly approaching the bedroom door before turning back to face the pair, ‘I can tell you now that your dear mother would be thanking the heavens for gifting you with a doting husband,’ her gaze falls onto the child, still nestled in Amelia’s arms, ‘and a beautiful, beautiful little girl.’

Pavarti swiftly leaves the room, taking the excess cloth with her. The pair are left alone , but it isn’t long before Ernest follows suit. 

‘Excuse me for a moment,’ he presses a sweet kiss to her forehead, ‘I need to go and speak with someone; I won’t be long.’

‘Oh...of course,’ she watches him with worrisome eyes as he runs a finger across their daughter’s arm, ‘is everything alright?’

He meets her gaze once more, taking note of her concerned expression. ‘Certainly, my darling,’ he places a hand on her cheek, his fingers entangling in her dark hair, ‘I just need to leave the room briefly.’ 

‘Try not to be too long,’ she smiles at him in adoration, ‘you don’t want to keep your wife and daughter waiting now do you?’

He bows his head in acknowledgement, slowly making his way to the door. He turns to face her slightly, chuckling at the mischievous grin that rests upon Amelia’s face. 

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ 

                                  ----------------------------------------------------

After leaving the room, Ernest makes his way down the corridor, looking for any sign of the woman that helped Amelia deliver their child. He is soon stopped in his tracks as Pavarti appears from around the corner, her body turned away from him as she converses with one of the chambermaids. He wanders over to her, leaving a little distance between them.

‘Ms Daly...’   

‘What is it, My Lord?’ She turns abruptly to face him, her eyes widening at the sound of his concerned voice, ‘is Amelia alright?’

‘Yes, yes of course,’ he smiles reassuringly at her, ‘I just wanted to take this time to thank you for being there for my wife; I know that I was unable to, and though that is quite unfortunate, I am eternally grateful that you were there by her side in my place.’

‘Oh you really are a romantic, aren’t you?’ she returns his gaze, meeting him with a fond smile, ‘I can certainly see why Amelia has taken to you so.’ 

‘Is she going to be alright?’

‘Yes she is,’ she hesitates for a moment, unsure as to whether she should continue. She clears her throat, averting his gaze as she speaks once more, her voice soft and sympathetic. ‘Amelia told me about your wife... the one before her,’ there is another pause, ‘I’m sorry that you had to endure such a tragedy.’

‘Thank you,’ he nods his head curtly in acknowledgement, ‘but I have come to terms with it, and I can assure you that Amelia and the infant will not suffer the same fate or circumstance as they did.’ 

‘I admire your determination, My Lord, but I’m afraid that only God can decide their fate; all we can do is try to fight it.’

‘I know...’ he sighs defeatedly, running a hand along his jaw, ‘but there’s still no harm in trying.’

‘Amelia is in good health, Sir; as is your child,’ she reassures him, ‘the worst is over, and if Amelia manages to stay healthy for the next couple of weeks, then we will have nothing to worry about... at least not until she conceives again.’

The pair regard one another in comfortable silence, though it isn’t long before Ernest’s curiosity gets the better of him, his intrigue soon transitioning into concern, his words laden with guilt.

‘Is the risk greater?’ He asks worriedly, ‘I...if Amelia was to conceive another child, is she at a greater risk of infection or further complications during any future birth?’

‘Ernest...’ Pavarti addresses him informally, her bond with his wife enabling her to identify with his pain and worry, ‘Lady Amelia is a true force of nature; she is a strong and healthy young woman. There are always risks with pregnancy, no matter how old or young the mother is and no matter the circumstance...’ she places a comforting hand on his forearm, ‘you cannot make a decision about the future of your family based on a statistic of risk.’

‘But is it true?’ He responds with hesitancy, ‘will she be more prone to falling ill or catching an infection?’

‘Don’t worry about that for now,’ she holds up her hand with reverence, ‘you need to be in there with your family, not out here with me...’

‘But is it...’

‘My Lord... Amelia is in good hands; I will be visiting her at least three times a day, and she will have an abundance of visitors presenting her with gifts and treating any ailments that she may have. The Dowager Countess has also informed me that she will be arriving soon to meet the child, and they will be treated with the upmost respect and consideration.’ Her gaze softens as she takes in the young man’s demeanor, ‘don’t let the events of the past cloud your visions for the future.’ 

‘You’re right,’ he nods in response, clearing his head of any ill thoughts, ‘forgive me for my forwardness... I just think that,’ he shakes his head, ‘it doesn’t matter, please forget that I ever mentioned anything.’ 

‘I apologise if this is imprudent, My Lord, but maybe you should talk to Amelia about your concerns; it may surprise you to learn how she feels about it.’

‘Has she said anything?’

‘Not to my knowledge, no,’ she meets him with a reassuring smile, ‘but maybe she feels as though she cannot at the risk of upsetting or concerning you.’ She moves further away from the chamber, gesturing to the bedroom. ‘Now, there is incredibly beautiful young woman waiting for you beyond that door; she is everything that a man like yourself could ever dream of...go and be with her...’ she hesitates briefly, tilting her head in the direction of the door, ‘and introduce yourself to your daughter.’ 

                                  ------------------------------------------------------

After ending his conversation with Pavarti, Ernest returned to the bedroom, being careful not to disturb the child as she slept peacefully in her mother’s arms. Amelia meets his gaze, a warm smile enveloping her lips as she invites him to come closer.

‘Well that was rather quick,’ she pats the empty space beside her, ‘did you manage to accomplish what you needed to?’

‘Are you asking me whether I managed to properly thank Ms Daly for looking after you when I could not?’ He replies humorously, removing his cravat, ‘because if that is the case, then I can safely say that I managed to do just that.’ He takes another step forward, perching on the edge of the bed before lifting his eyes to meet her gaze. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Exhausted,’ she greets him with a tired smile, ‘in fact, I feel like I could sleep for days...’

‘I will have the housekeeper send for the Nanny tomorrow,’ he places a gentle hand on her waist, ‘at least then you’ll be able to rest properly.’ 

‘I don’t know if I want to have any help,’ she holds the child closer to her chest, gently rocking the infant in her arms, ‘my Mama raised me all by herself and I... I feel like I should too.’ 

‘And I respect that, truly I do,’ his fingers travel along her forearm, his fingertips tracing intricate patterns on her bare skin, ‘but you are in no state to nurse this child just yet.’

‘But I’m her mother; I need to be there for her...’ her gaze softens as she looks down at the bundle, ‘if I can’t hold her in my arms and soothe her when she cries, then what good am I? My Mama she...’

‘Amelia...’ he calmly interjects her, inclining his head towards her as he rests his chin against her temple, wrapping her into a protective embrace, ‘forgive me for sounding impertinent, but I need you to listen to what I have to say.’ He pulls away from her, reaching forward to caress her cheek, ‘I understand that your Mother meant the absolute world to you, and I value how determined you are to give our child a happy and healthy childhood...’ he pauses for a moment, his words hesitant yet nurturing, ‘I can respect that you wish to raise this child in a similar way to how your Mother raised you but... we are in a different position to what she was all those years ago; we have financial stability and I am here to provide for you. We have a collection of servants who cater to our every whim out of respect for our family names and indeed our status in society.’ He smiles weakly at her, hoping that his words were not too harsh or condescending. ‘You had an incredible childhood, and your mother raised you impeccably well, but don’t you think that your mother would want you to take advantage of your status? You have everything that she never had and more... I believe that she would want you to embrace that.’

‘I...’ she lowers her head, averting his gaze, ‘I cannot argue with that.’

He runs a comforting hand along her back. ‘I’m sorry if I was too harsh or...’

‘No no don’t...don’t apologise,’ she leans into his touch, ‘you’re right. I guess I just... I wanted her to have everything that I had and...’

‘She will have all that and more; our daughter will want for nothing.’ He looks down at the baby, her sleeping form positioned delicately in the crook of Amelia’s elbow. He gestures a hand towards the infant, greeting his wife with a bashful smile. ‘May I hold her?’ He questions, ‘the child...’

‘Of course,’ her apologetic eyes meeting his once more, ‘I’m so sorry that I kept her all to myself; I can assure you that it was never my intention to - ‘

‘Amelia,’ he runs his thumb across her bottom lip, ‘I have been in this room for no more than ten minutes, it’s not like you have concealed her from me for hours.’

She giggles at his jest, ‘well then, if you wish to hold our daughter, then you’ll have to hold out your arms.’ She cautiously outstretches her arms, her small hands cradling the child’s body as she carefully hands her over to him.

‘You just need to support her head...’ she reaches forward, maneuvering his hand to rest at the base of the child’s skull, ‘and place the other hand here...’ 

He gazes fondly up at his wife, his lips curving into a warm smile. 

‘You certainly seem to know what you are doing.’ 

‘I had a good teacher,’ she places his other arm below her spine, ensuring that he is holding the child correctly, ‘there...perfect.’ She carefully lifts the baby’s hand with her finger, running her thumb across her soft skin before glancing back up at her husband. ‘See? You’re an absolute natural!’

‘Well, I had a good teacher...’

Amelia meets him with a soft smile, her brown doe-like eyes glistening in the candlelight as her gaze wanders back to the infant.

‘I think it is safe to say that she is the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen,’ he nudges Amelia slightly, ‘besides you, of course...’

‘Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr Sinclaire.’

‘It got us this far, didn’t it?’ A deep chuckle resonates from his throat, but it isn’t long before he shakes himself out of it, lowering his head to avert her gaze.

‘Forgive me, that was rather uncouth.’

‘But you cannot deny that there isn’t any truth to it.’ She retorts, running a nurturing hand across the cloth, ‘or would agreeing with the ‘inappropriateness’ of your remark be rather improper for a lady of my status...’

‘I would say yes, but it is one of your best qualities,’ he pauses for a moment, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s head, ‘have you thought of a name for her?’

‘I thought that we were deciding that together...’

‘We are,’ he nods, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s, ‘but considering the fact that you were the one that did all of the hard work, I thought that it would be a good idea to let you choose.’

‘Are...Are you certain?’ 

‘As certain as I was when I asked for your hand,’ he looks up at her, tilting his head with a bemused smirk, ‘now, have you got any ideas as to what you would like to call her?’

‘I was thinking that, if our child was a girl, I would like to name her after my mother; Mary,’ her hands clasp the bed-sheets, pulling them further up her body,  ‘but if you don’t like it, then I’m sure that we can -’ 

‘Mary is perfect,’ he whispers, ‘a remarkable name for an extraordinary little girl.’

Amelia looks up at her husband, meeting his eyes with a loving smile.  

‘She has your eyes, you know,’ she tips her head in the direction of the baby,   ‘you can see the blue tint right...’ she points a delicate finger at the flecks of blue in their daughter’s eyes, ‘there!’

‘I think that most infants have blue or green eyes when they are born, my love,’ he sighs with merriment, ‘I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens...but there is one thing that is still troubling me.’

‘What is it?’

‘I’m just struggling to process how I shall bear so much happiness...’ he leans his head against hers, burying his cheek into her hair, ‘I thought that you had made me the happiest man alive when you had agreed to be wife.’

‘Didn’t I do that?’

‘No you did,’ he turns to face her, pressing an adoring kiss to her cheek, ‘but by bearing my child, you have made me feel...euphoric.’

‘Euphoric?’ She looks at him in confusion, ‘what does that mean?’

He places another kiss to her shoulder as he gazes down at the little girl, ‘it means that I love you, and that...there is no one on this earth that I’d rather spend my days with.’

‘That’s not what it actually means, is it?’

He shakes his head with a mischievous smile; she pokes him playfully in the shoulder, causing him to chuckle softly. 

‘Alright, you caught me,’ he holds the child closer to his chest, ‘but there is some truth to it.’ He sighs wistfully, his gaze darting from the infant to his wife. 

‘Amelia?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you...’ he pauses for a moment, resting his chin against her shoulder, ‘for everything.’

[griffinsabina]

[marlcasters]

PB better not have any ideas to hurt Mama Daly...

she said it herself ^

[ezekielbhandarivalleros]

Other Places, New Faces

Characters: Leah Foredale (MC) Vincent Foredale, Briar Daly, Pavarti Daly, Luke Harper and Annabelle Parsons (Non Speaking Role)

Summary: The First Day of School of High School for Leah Foredale

Taglist:  @secretaryunpaid @princess-geek @missameliep @daddytyrilstarfury @choicesficwriterscreations @aussieez

(If this goes well I might make this into a fic Series)

Leah emerged from her closet carrying a couple more sweaters and placed them on her bed, spending a few minutes mixing and matching them with her skirts to try and work out the perfect first-day-of-high school look. She was determined to make a good impression the following morning when she started Woodside High School . She hadn't exactly been the most popular kid in middle school, but she was going to change that this year in high school. She just knew that it was going to be different because they were all growing up and surely the name calling and throwing food would stop. High school kids didn't do that kind of thing. This year would be about building friendships and finding the place she would be able to leave her mark on the school before she moved on to the City and of to college.

Leah did a bit more rearranging and then beamed when she settled on the outfit she would wear; a red plaid skirt with a white sweater with a red carousel horse on it. She would throw in some white knee socks and a red headband and it would be perfect. She smiled at her choice and then nodded her head in affirmation before going about the task returning the rest of the clothes to their proper spot in the closet.

Briar stood in the doorway for a few moments watching Leah move back and forth from her bed to the closet before she reached out and knocked lightly on the door.

"Hey" Leah smiled at her and Briar moved all the way into the room. "What are you doing here? I didn't expect that you would be over tonight."

"And miss getting to see my Bestie the night before high school? Never," Briar said.

"I was picking out what outfit I was going to wear tomorrow," Rachel said. "I want to make a good impression."

She put an arm around Leah's shoulders and leaned down and placed a kiss on the girl's head. She couldn't believe they were starting high school.

Briar would be lying if she said she wasn't worried about Leah in high school. She had started kindergarten a year early at her parents' insistence. Her birthday was after the cut-off date, but she had been tested and received a waiver to start early. She was an extremely bright child and it seemed like a shame to make her wait a whole other year to start school. But as time went on, Leah found herself being picked on with more and more frequency. First they called her a baby, and being sometimes more than a year younger than some of her classmates didn't help her to combat that claim. She was called a showoff because of her reading and singing abilities. She was a teacher's pet because she liked to engage her teachers in conversation. She was a tattletale for telling on kids who picked on others, though she found that no one told when she was being picked on. Leah had come home in tears on more than a few occasions because she couldn't understand why none of the other kids would play with her. Even some of the kids she took dance classes with pretended like they didn't know her when they were in school.

This was something that all three parents had been trying to talk Rachel into all summer. Though they lived in the Woodside district, Leah could get a waiver to attend Edgewood because her Father was a teacher there, but Leah had resisted. Ms. Daly also liked the idea because it would afford Vincent the opportunity to keep an eye out for her, but Leah told them that she would be fine on her own. Besides, what kid wanted their parent in the same school with her every day? She knew Edgewood had a theater club and she felt she would be perfect for it. Her father had reminded her that she'd be perfect for it, but she was determined to make her own way.

"No," Leah answered. "I think I'm going to like Woodside. I'll know people there and I'm sure my brothers will be protecting me. And I still get to work with you so I'm not missing out."

Vincent had tried to explain time and again that  Edgewood’s Theater club was in tatters, but that almost made it that much more appealing to Leah. She could fix it and be the star.

"Ok," Leah said. "If you're sure."

"I am."

"Then I will leave you so you can start getting ready for bed," Vincent said.

"Aw, but Father," Leah whined. "I'm in high school now."

"Yes and you have a big day tomorrow," Vincent reminded her. "And did you really think that you wouldn't have a bedtime anymore just because you're in high school now?"

"Yeah," Leah mumbled.

Vincent chuckled and pulled her only daughter close again. "Sorry, sweetie," Vincent said. "I'll be downstairs with your brothers."

"She's thought she was grown up since she was about four," Ms. Daly said.

"Do you think she's ready for tomorrow?" Vincent asked. He gratefully took a cup of hot tea from Ms. Daly and then sat down at the table. "As ready as she's ever going to be," "Are we ready?" Ms. Daly asked. "That's the real question."

Leah appeared ten minutes later with her nightgown on and took a seat on her father’s lap and pouted as she leaned back into him. "I'm not tired, you know."

"Well then I guess the extra quiet time will allow you to contemplate important matters such as the meaning of life," Ms. Daly said..

"Did you get your outfit all ironed out?" Vincent asked asked.

"Yes!" Leah said proudly. "I'm wearing one of my favorite Hoodies and a few other things."

The two adults exchanged a look as Leah described her outfit in detail. The all knew that she child didn't have much of a fashion sense, but they had encouraged her to wear what she felt comfortable in. They just never thought the skirt and sweaters phase would have lasted this long. But it was what Leah liked and they didn't discourage it.

"Ok, Sunshine," Vincent said when the outfit description was over, "it really is time for you to get in bed."

Leah sighed and then looked back at her father in turn hoping that he would help her out, but it was clear he also agreed. "Fine. "She gave Vincent a kiss goodnight before getting up from his lap. "Goodnight, Sunshine," Vincent said when he kissed his daughter. "Make sure you and your brothers take lots of pictures for me in the morning."

"They will," Briar said who had now popped out of nowhere. They always did.

The two girls trudged out of the room and each adult listened to hear their footsteps going up the stairs, but they didn't hear anything. Leah was lingering in the living room, a stalling tactic she often used.

"Sunshine, do you need me to walk you to your room?" Her Father called out.

"No," came the reply and then they heard her quick pace to the second story.

Vincent went to check on her fifteen minutes later and found that their girl who proclaimed to not be at all tired was fast asleep. She just hoped that Leah stayed asleep and didn't let her excitement get the better of her and end up being awake most of the night.

"She's out," Vincent told the Ms. Daly when he returned to the living room. "And I should go too. I'll be seeing you tomorrow for dinner so she and Briar can tell us about their first day."

The following morning Leah stood out in front of Woodside High with a smile on her face. She had just waved goodbye to her father and watched him drive off before turning back to the school and silently declaring that this year would be different. She took a deep breath to calms her nerves and then confidently walked toward the front door.

Her class schedule was clasped firmly in her hand as she made her way through the crowds of people in the halls so she could find her homeroom class. She couldn't wait for the day to get started so she could get her locker assignment and start to settle in.

Her steps faltered and slowed for a bit when she heard people start to laugh. Her head trained to the side as she listened for any conformation that they were laughing at her. She glanced over and saw one girl pointing at her and the other started to laugh harder when she realized Leah was looking at them. Leah snapped her head back to the front and held it high as she picked up her pace once more. It was the first day and those girls could be laughing at anything.

By the time lunch came around, Leah had been unsuccessful at finding out any information about the clubs going on in and around the school. The faculty had not been able to answer any of her questions either. She was disheartened, but not anywhere near ready to give up.

Leah stood in line in the cafeteria and tried to see what her options were to eat. She normally brought her lunch, but she had told her father that she had wanted to buy it this year. It was much more high school to buy your lunch. Vincent had agreed a situation she was completely ok with. She'd only brought enough money for today though, opting to leave the rest of her money at home.

Leah scanned the room after exiting the line with her tray in her hands. There were rows up rows of tables filled with rowdy kids all making noise and sharing stories of their summers. She was looking for a place to sit when she felt someone bump into her from behind. She lurched forward and dropped her tray to the ground with a loud clang. The room was instantly quiet and everyone strained to see until someone started to clap. The room filled with laughter and applause as she stared down at what used to be her lunch. She helped one of the lunch ladies clean it up before leaving the cafeteria and seeking out a quiet place she could sit on her own.

Leah had seen many people she knew from middle school that day, but none she really wanted to talk to. Annabelle was already wearing a Cheerleading uniform and Luke was on the football team. Tryouts for those happened over the summer and so their position in the school was already solidified. She had tried to say hello to Ernest, but he just put his hand up and walked away. But Leah didn't want to focus on the people she knew because there were lots of new people here that she could be meeting and becoming friends with. Though right now as she sat alone in an empty classroom, wishing that she had gone and sat with Briar.

Leah stopped at her locker on her way to her last class of the day; English. It had always been her favorite and she was looking forward to it as Briar was in it with her. That, and since it was the last class, she was only a little over an hour from being able to go home.

Leah propped her book bag up on the tiny ledge of her locker and tried to fill it with her newly assigned textbooks. The ledge proved to be too small and when then bag slipped some of her books spilled out on to the floor. She knelt on the floor to pick them up, which proved to be difficult because of the high traffic in the hallway since they were between classes. She felt lucky to have avoided being stepped on as she got to her feet. She swung her bag to her back and turned to close her locker only to be met with an older boy wearing a football jersey.

"Hey," he said.

"Hello!" She greeted excitedly.

"I'm Luke."

The two acted as if this was their first time meeting since it was Leah’s first day of being in the school ever.

"I'm Leah Foredale." She held her hand out for him to shake. "It's very nice to meet you." He shoke her hand.

"You're new here, right?" Luke asked.

"Yes, I'm a freshman. It's my first day," Leah answered.

"Would you like to meet some of my friends?" Leah asked.

"Yes, I would!" Leah said. Finally this day was getting a little bit better. She knew she just had to meet the right people and she would make friends.

Leah stepped away and Rachel looked in the direction he indicated. She was not met with friendly faces, but rather with the cold shock of water and some warm drink being thrown in her face. She gasped and then stood completely still as the mess dripped down her face and clothes. She had to work to catch her breath because the pain was so shocking. She'd never felt anything like the sharp pain that came with being doused in a sticky and somewhat warm substance. Her white sweater was now covered and her hair was matted to her head and face.

"Welcome to Woodside, Pipsqueak!" she heard someone shout.

Leah could hear the laughter throughout the hall as she reached up and wiped her eyes. Her chin trembled as she looked around to see the other students pointing and laughing and even taking pictures with their phones. She had never wished so badly to be anywhere else in her life than at this moment. She really wished she was at the school her father was teaching at and he would take care of it. All she would have to do was show up at her office or classroom and Vincent and Briar would be on the warpath to find out whoever did this. But She also thought about how embarrassing that would be. She wasn't sure if this moment could get any worse, 

The bell rang and the crowd dispersed and Leah was left standing alone in the hall. She was now no longer one of the nameless, faceless freshmen; she had been branded. A target. Someone to laugh at. A victim. A loser.

Leah wasn't sure what she should do next. She didn't want to be any later than she already was for class, but she couldn't show up wet with water still dripping from her face.

"You're going to be late," a young teacher said as he walked past her. In just a glance she had noticed his curly brown hair and gray vest. He didn't seem to even really look at her.

"I'm sorry," Leah said. He didn't look back.

She shut her locker and went into the closest bathroom and did her best to dry off. There was no way to get it all out of her hair and she obviously had no clothes to change into.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Leah said when she finally entered the classroom. There was an immediate buzz and then laughter about her clothes and Leah's cheeks were red when she sat down in her seat. The teacher looked sympathetic, but gave her a warning about being late all the same, she then took a her seat next to Briar and Annabelle. The teacher started the lesson, it was about letter writing. She looked at both girls and quietly said “We don’t need to learn all this useless stuff, doesn’t he know that we use text nowadays” Annabelle let out a small giggle before turning towards the whiteboard.

---- After School -----

Leah was supposed to take the bus home where she knew her father would be waiting for her, but she couldn't bring herself to get on it though. She'd rather walk than have to sit with people who were going to laugh at her once again. She, instead, decided to walk home knowing that father wouldn’t be home yet and she’d be able to slip in and take a quick shower and get something to eat without her father knowing what had happened to her. She also made sure to tell Briar where she was going.

Vincent stepped out of the front door and was about to get in his car when she noticed Leah turn the corner and head towards the house. The girl's shoulders were slumped and Vincent was certain Leah hadn't even noticed him yet.

"Sunshine," Vincent said causing the girl to finally look up.

"Daddy," Leah said in surprise. She was almost to the driveway and had been too lost in her own thoughts to notice their car in the driveway. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Vincent said. "Oh honey, what happened?" He asked when Leah finally got close to him.

"What? Oh, the mess," Leah  feigned. "It was nothing."

Vincent could tell that whatever it was was still stuck in Leah's hair and that her sweater was more than likely ruined. Leah's downcast eyes and sad demeanor didn't help her believe it.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Vincent said. "Come on, let's get you inside."

"I didn't think you would be home now”  Leah said.

"I left early so I could see you and your brothers when I got home this afternoon," Vincent said. She and Leah had stopped in the foyer because Vincent was making her take her shoes and socks off there.

"I came home to get cleaned up, and also the boys told me they’d be staying overnight at a friend’s place" Leah said. "I told Briar that she could go on without me and that I’d be delayed."

"Why didn't you just ride the bus home?" Vincent asked. "That would have been quicker than walking."

"I didn't feel like it," Leah said.

"What happened?"

"I was sitting at a table in the cafeteria and there was a boy walking by me and he was carrying a tray with a hot drink," Leah said. "He tripped and fell and I just happened to be in the wrong spot because I was sitting right where the it had landed. It really would have been quite comical if it hadn't been me." Leah looked everywhere but at her father while she spoke.

"Sunshine, why didn't you call me or Ms. Daly to bring you a change of clothes?" Vincent asked. "How long have you been covered in this mess?" 

"Just a few hours," Leah said. She had to change the timeline a bit so that it coincided with lunch time. "It's really not that bad."

"Honey, if something like that ever happens again, you call. Do you understand?" Vincent asked, getting down at eye level with her daughter. Leah nodded. "I do not want you sitting around in wet, dirty clothes for half the day."

"Ok," Leah said quietly.

"Why don't you go on upstairs and get cleaned up and then we'll head over to where Ms. Daly is” Vincent said.

"Can I have a snack first?" Leah asked. "Or a sandwich?"

"We're having dinner in a few hours," Vincent told her said.

"I know," Leah said, looking down. "But I didn't… I forgot my money today and so I wasn't able to get anything for lunch."

"You haven't eaten all day?"

"Not since breakfast," She answered.

"Sunshine," Vincent said as he took her hand and led her into the kitchen. Leah filled a glass with water while Vincent got her a banana and then set about making a sandwich for her. "If you can't remember the money in the mornings than you need to leave it in your bag at night," Vincent instructed. He wasn't sure what had come over Leah because the girl was normally more organized then anyone he knew, himself excluded. Leah wouldn't just forget her money.

"I don't think it'll matter," Leah said. "I'm going to bring my lunch from now on. It'll just be easier that way."

"Why?" Vincent asked. He set a paper towel holding a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of Leah and then sat at the table with her. The banana was already gone.

"Just so I don't have to stand in line and everything," Leah said with tears forming in her eyes. "The food didn't look all that great anyway." And it would be easier to eat alone if she didn't have to go into the cafeteria at all, but Leah didn't say that last part aloud.

"Whatever you want to do," Vincent said as he reached out to brush some of the hair back from Leah's face. It was a sticky mess.

Leah finished off the last bite of her sandwich and Vincent ushered her up the stairs so she could shower. The young girl didn't go into her room or bathroom and instead headed straight for her mother and father’s room and the bathroom in there. She had always loved when it was mother's room and when she was younger and feeling frightened she would lay by her side in bed to hide from the monsters or ghosts.

Leah stepped into the bathroom and started the water in the shower so it would be nice and hot and then peeled the clothes off of her and left them in a pile on the floor. When she got into the shower she could see the brown-like dye running down her body and it was then that she started to cry.

"I don't know what to think," Vincent said to Ms. Daly who had now gone to pick Briar up from Annabelle’s place over the phone. He had called her to tell her where Leah was and that they would be a little later than expected. "She didn't eat a lunch and ended up covered in that crap. It's not that hard to believe that someone would do that to her on purpose. But I don't know why she wouldn't tell me if someone did do that. It was her first day of high school and she came home with such sadness in her. It breaks my heart."

"Mine too," Ms. Daly said. "We can try and talk to her again when you guys get here."

"Ok. And fair warning, I think she might be upset about the sweater since I was the one who bought it for her, she didn’t say it but I know she was thinking about it" Vincent said. "I'm pretty certain it's ruined."

"Why would she think that?"

"I'm not sure," Vincent said. "But of course we all remember how he reacted when she covered her brand new dress in pink glitter and gold stars when she was six."

"Or when she shrank two brand new bags of clothes when she let the dryer run for two hours a couple summers ago," Ms. Daly said. "I'll talk to her when you two get here."

Vincent was surprised to find it was his bathroom that was in use when he went upstairs to get Leah’s dirty clothes and see if there was something he could do about the sweater. He could hear that the water was still running so he stuck his head in the bathroom. It was actually more like a steam room at that point.

"I'm just grabbing your clothes," Vincent said.

"I didn't grab anything from my room to put on," Leah said above the water.

"I'll get you something."

Vincent returned ten minutes later with clothes for Leah and a request that some water be saved for the rest of the neighborhood. "You need to finish up now, Sunshine."

Leah sighed and reluctantly turned the water off. She'd washed up ages ago and had been content to let the hot water try and wash her bad day away much like it had for the drink that spilled all over on her.

"Come downstairs when you're done so we can get going," Leah instructed. "Ms. Daly is anxious to see you."

Thirty minutes later Leah finally left the bathroom wearing jeans and a t-shirt with dry, clean hair. She was about to leave her father's room when she changed her mind and went and lied down on the bed. She would let it hold her for a few minutes so the monsters would go away. A few minutes turned into fifteen and Vincent came upstairs to see what was taking so long.

"Leah, what are you doing?" Vincent asked from the doorway. Leah didn't lift her head from the pillow even as she turned to look at her father.

"Nothing."

"We need to get going now."

"I love your bed."

"I know you do," Vincent said. He'd lost it to Leah on more than one occasion. "If you want to stay here tonight that's fine, but right now we need to get going. Your bestie will be over here breaking down the door soon if they don't get to see their girl after her first day of high school."

Leah knew there was truth in that and she gave off her first real smile since much earlier that day.

----- At Briar’s House -----

By the time they reached the Daly household, Rachel was feeling much better and offered her Ms. Daly and Briar nothing but her biggest smile when they greeted her at the door. They picked her up between them and she was able to hug them both at once. She reiterated the same story about incident at school and the lunch to them as she had told her Vincent. She noticed the glances they gave each other and she couldn't decide if she thought they believed her or not. Leah quickly changed the subject to her classes and teachers and bemoaned the lack of information she had received about the existence of a drama club.

The mood was happy all through dinner and Leah couldn't help but bouncing up and down when Briar told her they had a present for her. It was a gold star necklace and Ms. Daly had given her the earrings to match. She declared that they would look gorgeous with the owl sweater she planned to wear tomorrow.

The parents were finally able to talk once Leah and Briar had been sent to their rooms and was more perplexed than the next.

"Well surely no one would drop a drink on a person on purpose," Vincent said. "And in all her excitement this morning she could have forgotten her lunch money."

"But kids are cruel and they've never been nice to Leah," Vincent said. "I've seen them do worse to each other than throwing food around. I think perhaps we should go in and have a word with the principal."

"Maybe, but if we do and it was all as she says, Leah would be mortified," Vincent said. "Kids hate the idea of their parents at school. If it happens again, we'll know and we can go in and do something about it. And if not, we'll know that it was an accident."

Leah listened closely from her hiding spot at the top of the stairs. She didn't know if it would happen again, but she certainly hoped not. But that was the moment that Leah decided to always be prepared. She would bring extra clothes and toiletries to school to have just in case. She would make sure that her Father didn't find out because they wanted so badly for her to fit in and be happy there. It would be simple enough to hide it from him because she could do laundry before he got home from work. The only reason they were home early today was because it was the first day. Tomorrow would be better.

Leah retreated back to Briar’s room not caring if Briar was asleep or not when it sounded like they were done talking about her and slipped into bed and opened her book. That was how Vincent found her a few minutes later when he came to check on her.

"Uh-huh," Vincent said when she caught Leah with her book and not asleep like she'd expected. He stepped over to the bed and took the book from her daughter's hands and put the book mark in place and set it on her desk.

"I just wanted to read a little bit more," Leah said.

"Tomorrow. Lie down now."

"Will you sing to me?"

"Sure, sweetie," Vincent Smiled. It had been a few months since Leah asked him to sing for her. Vincent kicked off his shoes and climbed in bed next to her daughter. Leah made herself comfortable by leaning into him and holding her father's hand.

Vincent smirked. Who else?

"People," he sang. "People who need people…"

Leah listened to the slow melody and she closed her eyes after a few moments of resistance. When Vincent finished the song, Leah still wasn't completely asleep, but she wasn't fully awake either.

"Leah," Vincent said in a soft tone, "did someone hurt you today at school? Did they pick on you?"

"They didn't drop it on purpose," She muttered.

"I know they didn't," Vincent said though he wasn't sure who or what Leah was talking about. "Would you tell me if you got hurt at school? Your me and Ms. Daly and I can fix it."

"The Drink… doesn't matter," was the mumbled reply.

"Why doesn't it matter?" Vincent asked.

"Because. Starting tomorrow it'll be different."

Leah's breathing started to even out and Vincent moved her so that he could get up. She placed a kiss on Vincent's temple and tucked the blankets around her. He turned off the bedside lamp on his way out of the room and with one look back at Leah, shut the door behind him.

"Starting tomorrow…" Leah muttered one more time before finally drifting into a deep sleep.

[storyofmychoices]

Don’t be afraid to be kind. It makes you stronger! Spread kindness

Day 120 of spreading positivity with Choices characters and quotes or @choicesmonthlychallenge  — rose   [quote by Luffina Lourduraj]

[rosesnink]

Mrs Daly shipped us for long 💞

[boanddonatetoblacktranspeople]

Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Petunia Evans Dursley, Dudley Dursley, Vernon Dursley, Percy Weasley, Oliver Wood, Minerva McGonagall, George Weasley, Fred Weasley, Pavarti Daly, Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom, Dobby (Harry Potter) Additional Tags: The Cupboard Under The Stairs (Harry Potter), Stairs, Stairs Test, Harry Potter and the Trans Staircase, Trans Harry Potter, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Boys Will Be Boys, Except Harry who is just along for the ride, WARNING: Use of slurs by the Dursleys, Identity Issues, Harry Potter and the Increasingly Ridiculous Excuses, Mental Health Issues, Anxiety Attacks, Not Ron bashing just Ron fumbling, Minor Hermione Granger/Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, POV Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Bisexual Harry Potter, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, POV Neville Longbottom, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Hogwarts First Year, Transgender, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gryffindor, Friendship, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, Trans rights, Prompt Fic, Challenge Response, The Stairs Test, Coming Out, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Trans Dobby Series: Part 1 of Bravery Comes From the Heart, Not the Hat Summary:

In which the Gryffindor boys aren’t ready to let a measly set of stairs win

[missameliep]

Is This Love? - Part 2

Book: Desire and Decorum Summary: The sands of time do not stop trickling down, and Elizabeth is no longer a child. Mary reminds herself that being born poor and beautiful might be either a blessing or a curse, when she realises that love and lust will soon be a permanent part of her daughter’s life. Word count: ~3.200 words Notes: * Part of the events in this series take place prior to the story of Book 1 and my series The Pursuit of Happiness, and retell some of the events from the first chapters of that book. The third from this chapter scene takes place at Chapter 3. * Characters belong to PixelBerry, except OC; * English is not my first language;   * The series was inspired by an ask from my friend @princess-geek​​​ (I hope you enjoy it!).

This is my late submission to @julychoiceschallenge​​ - Day 14: Love.

Grovershire – May, 1808

This year’s harvest festival must be the greatest festivity since Mary moved to Grovershire. Even though the fields have not been blessed by favourable weather or an exceptional crop like previous years, the community got together these past months, supporting one another, and bravely enduring the intense frost and the arid weeks that followed. Once the worst is behind them, the townspeople found more than enough reasons to celebrate.

The sun was setting, and the square was brimming with people. A dancing crowd before the lively band with their graceful – and not so graceful – matching steps. Laughter and music filling the air, joining the inviting smell of baked goods and food displayed at numerous carts.

This evening, Mary helped her long-time friend Pavarti Daly with her cart filled with delicious pies, just like she did on previous years. While she served another piece of her friend’s famous walnut pie, she caught a glimpse of her twelve-year-old daughter standing beside the square fountain and smiled.

The green and beige summer dress, which was tailored using leftover fabrics from Mary’s creations for the townswomen, contrasted with the girl’s pale skin peppered with light freckles and hung a little loose over her lean childlike frame. Luckily, Mary ponders, it will fit her for the next two summers at least, if she doesn’t get tall as her father all of a sudden.

With every passing day, Elizabeth resembles less and less the image of the child from her mother’s memories. Soon, every trace of the infancy shall be gone, and the haunting likeness she shares with her father will grow even more evident. Ever since she was a baby, she already took too much after him, either on her looks, with the same dark brown hair, and on many other aspects. For instance, Mary enjoys reading and her attention can be captivated by a good story. Once upon a time her entire craft relied on her ability to become someone else entirely and bring stories to life. Nonetheless, Elizabeth’s fascination for books since she was a little girl is unlike hers. Her green eyes shone with the mere sight of an unread book, just like her father’s once did.

“Our little Lizzy is growing into a handsome young lass, my friend,” Mrs. Daly beamed, nudging her friend’s side. “Soon all the lads in the village shall be smitten and singing her praises outside your windows...”

Before Mary could say anything, her friend grabbed her arm and pointed. Their attention shifted to a group of teenage boys, standing a few metres away from her daughter. Mary recognized some of them as the sons of Grovershire’s richest families. Two of Mrs. Dunne’s boys were in the group, Francis, with his lavish caramel curls, and Sean, the youngest with his distinctive fiery red hair. The older boys stared at her daughter, wolfish smiles curling their mouths while her half-braided hair and skirts swayed while she mimicked the steps of the dancers.

“Oh! It seems she’s already caught their eyes!” Mrs. Daly corrected herself and did not try to stifle a chortle while they watched the scene like an act of a play.

Briar, who had returned to Elizabeth’s side, whispered into her ear and the two laughed, before walking with arms linked past the group of boys towards the fields, where the harvest games were held. Faces turned and eyes accompanied the pair of giggling girls distancing, then many pairs of feet marched towards the same direction.

Mary sighed, still looking at the place her daughter once was, contemplating the end of the act.

The fact that Elizabeth and her undeniable good-looks would eventually catch the eyes of the opposite sex was anticipated, and for years her mother has prepared herself and her daughter for that moment. Although, high-class young men taking an interest on the girl at such a young age and what they might feel entitled to considering their perception of her social status, that concerns her terribly.

A shiver ran down her spine. The most difficult conversations she shall engage with her daughter looming at the horizon.

Throughout the years, Mary witnessed – and experienced herself in a few occasions – how entitlement works and the way men relying on their wealthy and power hold their claims over poor women’s companies and favours, unapologetically reminding them that what is not given voluntarily, might be taken by force.

“That is the natural order of things, my dear.” Mary can still hear the male, low and ragged voice, uttering those words into her ear. At the occasion, she was only a few years older than her daughter, and unfortunately it wasn’t the last time similar ones were spoken to her.

At last, as if coming out of a trance, she turned around, facing the other woman.

“I am afraid both of our girls have, my friend,” she pointed out with an undeniable hint of melancholy, and her attention returned to the cart and to the people standing around. Plastering an insincere smile, she handed a piece of pie to a smiling Mrs. White, who thanked her and turned around to re-join the animated conversation with friends, oblivious to Mary’s concerns.

Mrs. Daly put the knife and plate down, and inched closer to examine her friend’s contemplative face. Worry creasing the space between her eyebrows and a sudden sadness clouding her eyes.

“You make it sound like a bad omen and I wonder why.”

“For a woman, being born beautiful and poor may be either a blessing or a curse,” Mary started, in a tone sufficient loud to not be muffled by the music and heard exclusively by her friend, “and one can never predict which way it shall go.”

Mary experienced both.

God willing Elizabeth would be more fortunate.

Grovershire – April, 1811

The sun was almost above their heads in that spring morning. The gentlest breeze blowing through the trees while a flock of birds presented their choreographed dance across the cloudless blue sky.

Up since before dawn, mother and daughter had fed the chickens, brought water from the well, watered the garden, gathered the vegetables and broken the fast, completing part of the tasks for the day. Now, side by side, they tended to the small garden surrounding their cottage.

Like every other springtime, what had been green only a few weeks ago, now has become colourful and vibrant. The flowers in bloom and their sweet fragrance filled Mary’s lung with pride and were counted amongst the most cherished accomplishments on the process of turning the ancient lifeless cottage into a home filled with happiness and love.

Focusing her gaze on the neat raised beds of herbs and vegetables, that soon will fill their steaming pots, she looked for signs of weeds and pests. Groaning, the woman plucked the roots of weeds growing next to the rosemarys, while her daughter stared with a quizzical expression.

“Mama,” Elizabeth called her softly, and Mary’s head tilted to face her. “Would you mind answering a question?”

“Of course not, my dear. Ask away.”

“It is... rather personal, I am afraid.”

Sensing the seriousness of the subject, Mary removed her hands from the dirty, sat on the balls of her bare feet, and indicated for her to continue.

“Did you and father fall in love right at first sight like the characters from the tales?”

Surprise rounded the woman’s lips and eyes and she drew in a sharp inhale.

“...You told me you loved each other very much, and it got me wondering...”

The corners of her mouth slowly curled up with reminiscences of love confessions uttered so long ago.

“Only your father,” she replied with a wistful smile. “Or so he used to say…”

“You didn’t?”

“Due to many circumstances, it took me a while longer to understand the nature of my feelings... However not that long, I must admit. Clearly Cupid’s arrows had stricken us both down.”

“Which circumstances?”

Mary paused and scratched one dirty palm. The actual worries that filled her mind at the time regarding the social abyss separating a young Viscount and an Opera singer or the fear of engaging into the kind of forbidden relationship that could only have a tragic ending like the many Operas she’s performed cannot be addressed.

“Unimportant and foolish concerns of a young lass, long buried under the sands of time.” A vague response to avoid follow-up questions.

Elizabeth tilted her head and pondered about the pieces of information received. Throwing some weeds at a basket, she dusted her hands off, cleaning them from dirt and small pieces of the roots.

“But how did you know?” she asked picking at the dirt beneath her fingernails. “That it was love, I mean.”

Mary rubbed the back of her hand on her forehead, wiping beads of sweat and removing a strand of blond hair stuck in front of her eye, and looked at her daughter with an amused expression. “Is it my imagination or has Cupid paid you a visit recently, Eliza?”

“Me? No, mama! I – Absolutely not!” Elizabeth's cheeks reddened and stumbling on words, she protested some more about the absurdity of her mother’s insinuation.

Raising her eyebrows at how vehemently her daughter wanted to deny it, she suspected that maybe some young lad has indeed caught her eye. However, if that was the case, it could be wiser to be patient for the moment and allow her strongminded daughter the opportunity to share the news whenever she felt ready.

Mary stifled a snicker, and apologised for teasing her so, but it was not enough for Elizabeth’s cheeks to return to its regular colour or to erase the vexed expression from her face.

“Tell me then, if you may, what stirred the sudden interest on the matter?”

“I was just curious, because I have been reading this book suggested by Mrs. Dunne and –”

“Ah! I should’ve known,” Mary interrupted with a knowing smirk. Anytime she started a new book, her mouth could not help but communicate the interrogations multiplying inside her mind. “And may I know what this book says that has you wondering about this particular subject?”

“It is not a specific fact, actually… Perhaps the contradictory notions... Most of the stories I have read this far insist the hero fell in love with the heroine at first sight. A glimpse of a handsome woman across a ballroom and that seals the gentleman’s fate. Which comes as an absurd notion, I think. Beauty being the exclusive aspect on which love is based seems utterly vain, do you not agree?” she inquired looking at her mother, who nodded, aware that love can at times be mistaken by desire and the urges of the flesh by young and inexperienced hearts. “While others – and this book particularly – glorify the use of reason at the moment of choosing the right man to wed, the necessity of taking under consideration the parents’ and the society’s good opinions, scrutinizing the possible suitor’s every possession to see if in the end he is a favourable match. It also seems very odd...”

Feigning scandal, Mary gasped, “Would my only daughter not want my advice?”

“I will never venture to even accept a courtship without first hearing your opinion, but…”

They shared a knowing smile.

“I have sensed a but…” the mother said, shaking her head slowly. Strong willed as her daughter is, undoubtedly, she would desire to take the reigns of her own life. “Care to explain what feels odd about this second notion? Being sensible before making a life changing decision such as marriage seems reasonable enough.”

“But should reason led when it comes to the matters of the heart? It also does not strike me as correct,” she paused and casted a glance at the chirping birds on the ground.

“Affection grows in spite of reason. That is a certainty.”

“It seems utterly odd that family or society’s opinions should matter the most, since I am the one who would wed and spend a lifetime with such a man...”

“Fortune, status and society’s opinions about a suitor are important to some…”

“Not to me,” Elizabeth stated with resolution. “A man who offers empty hands and a kind heart is preferable to one whose pockets are full of gold and the heart devoid of affection.”

“Indeed.”

The corners of Mary’s lips raised in a smirk. Another similarity bonding Elizabeth and her father. Vincent never failed to deliver a similar speech whenever she felt insecure of her low birth.

“One does not choose who to love…” Mary admitted, and her daughter’s attention focused on her. “A husband, on the other hand, that is a choice. A major one in my opinion.”

The teenager’s brows knitted together, while she pondered over those words. “Enough to one being forced to marry someone against their will?” she inquired but did not wait for a reply. “In this book they praise as a perfect son one who obliges to his family’s request and breaks an attachment to the woman he loves… He broke not only the engagement, but his own heart to obey… Is it not incredibly sad?”

Empathysing with the familiarity in this tale, Mary’s head bobbed in agreement. A lump on her throat kept her from speaking her mind for a long moment. The only conversations in the garden coming from the clucking chickens in the back.

“Then your heart may rest, since I promise to not meddle or force you into marrying someone you would not choose yourself,” Mary teased meeting Elizabeth’s gaze. “Though I suspect you had no reasons to worry about that...”

Elizabeth confirmed and they both chuckled, until Mary coughed a few times, face turning red.

“Mama,” she called softly, worry creasing her forehead, but she received a curt wave in return and when her mother finally managed to speak, she told her not to worry.

“You should visit Mrs. Clarke about that cough.”

“I will. When I find the time…”

After a little consideration, Elizabeth raised to her feet and went inside, returning a moment later with a jug and a cup. Sitting on the ground beside her mother, she watched her swallowing the water as if she had just come from the desert.

Mary thanked her and took the jug from Elizabeth’s hand to pour herself more water.

“I have one last question, if you don’t mind…” she said softly, a blush tinting her cheeks. “How does one know the feeling is actually love? What if my mind mistakes everything? I have only known the love I feel for you... and Briar and Mrs. Daly... I do not want to misinterpret if it happens –”

“When it happens,” Mary corrected her with a smile. “Love is not something easily described, though so many poets have tried... But you will know, trust me. The warm feeling inside… and the butterflies in your stomach… It shall not be mistaken by admiration or friendship. This person’s company, you will crave it like the air you breathe and, if you are fortunate enough, he will yearn yours as well…”

Mary closed her eyes for an instant, almost feeling the same fluttering in her heart just remembering those days of stolen kisses and longing. Then, her eyes reopened, and she concluded, “Some people acknowledge it very rapid…”

“Like father?”

“Exactly like your father. To others it can take time…” she replied and looked at her daughter fondly, enjoying the opportunity to revisit those memories. After so many years, speaking about the matter doesn’t feel like tearing open an old wound anymore. Actually, if she could, she would speak more often about it, afraid of forgetting everything with time. She still remembers his scent, but his voice – is it his or is it someone else the one she hears in her dreams?

“Though, I advise you to resist first impressions, they tend to be deceiving. Trust your instincts and search for honesty. Excessive flattery can be misleading…” With a smile, the woman proceeded listing advices and desirable qualities to search in a partner.

Raising her fingers, Elizabeth started speaking and counting, “In conclusion, I should trust my instincts, avoid flatterers, remember my social rank does not define me, love is a desirable thing and… And something about first impressions, possibly?” Failing to keep a straight face, she raised her shoulders and hands, holding her palms facing the sky. “Were violent passions good or bad?”

“Aren’t you impossible, daughter of mine?”

Bursting into laughter, Elizabeth asked, “How shall I remember all of that, mama? I fear I should have a paper and quill at hand to write the entire thing down!”

“You may always ask me, silly,” Mary replied, and they beamed fondly at each other. “Since I trust my recommendations are far better than any other you have read on those books.”

“Perhaps you should write your own book advising young and confused women searching for love and marriage...” Elizabeth suggested, and Mary snorted with laughter.

“Perhaps I will do just that. When I find the time.”

Edgewater – March, 1816

Elizabeth’s eyes were still marvelling at every little detail at the luxurious manor that welcomed her the previous day, from the furniture to the tall floral arrangements that invited spring inside, to the polite company and their fine dresses. Her ears could certainly get used to the music that Ms. Parsons’ long and skilled fingers create while pressing each ivory and ebony key.

If only she had the same skills... She would adore to let her fingers glide on the keyboard, producing sweet melody as well. However, a seamstress’ daughter is not taught how to play the pianoforte. Perhaps, an Earl daughter might have the chance.

Exhibiting her natural talent, Elizabeth sings the verses effortlessly and in perfect harmony with the woman playing. For the first time since her arrival, she feels like herself again. Memories from singing so many times with her mother along the years flood her mind, and she blinks away the emotions from her eyes and read the lyrics from the partiture.

Sitting by the pianoforte, Ms. Parson flashes a sincere smile, when they finish and their performance earns applauses and praises, especially Elizabeth’s voice, which have marvelled the trio of young women.

The only one who doesn’t seem content is the Countess, whose disgusted expression is not kept in secret.

Per usual, from her tongue fly unkind remarks.

Elizabeth cannot prevent her ears from listening her words, however she can and must succeed in training her own tongue to not speak harshly or out of time. The words she wishes to say are kept on her mind for now, and she does not respond the offenses.

From across the room, she casts a glance at the older woman, and contemplates if the pain of losing a loved son might have turned her into the spiteful creature who cannot tolerate her presence there, even if it brings joy to her father.

How can she be so cruel, knowing so well the unbearable pain of mourning someone we love?

When the pleasant conversation with Ms. Parsons is interrupted by the Countess, who urges her stepdaughter to return to the embroidery, in order to perfectionate the craft, she sighs at her companion and with resignation returns to the same place at the settee. Sitting beside the spot where the needle work was left moments ago.

Smoothing the skirts of the dress, fine fabric unlike anything she has laid eyes on, she catches bits of Ms. Sutton and Ms. Bowman’s conversation, their needlework forgotten on their respective laps.

The Countess did not conceal her annoyance at the exchange and the sound of her future daughter-in-law, stabbing the fabric harder than necessary.

“…and then I saw Mr. Sinclaire here at Edgewater yesterday!” Ms. Sutton concluded and her nasal voice ringed in the drawing room. 

“Again?” the other woman gasped.

Inadvertently, Elizabeth disclosed about being introduced to the gentleman by her grandmother and having him escort her in a tour of the gardens.

“How was it, Lady Elizabeth?”

“What were your impressions of him?”

“Tell us everything!” Ms. Sutton and Ms. Bowman spoke at the same time, staring at her expectantly.

Elizabeth chewed over their questions for a while and on her lower lip.

What were my first impressions?

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Traditions Way Too Old

Author's note: Alright, enough fluff. Time to thicken the plot 😏 Rating this piece as mature because there are some sensitive subjects implied, but nothing much.[Leading characters are owned by Pixelberry Studios and original characters are creations of the author] Book: Desire & Decorum (modern day AU) Characters/Pairings: Prince Hamid x MC (Daphne), Edmund Marlcaster x Briar Daly, Edmund Marlcaster x Theresa Sutton Rating: M Word count: 4142 Reading time: ~17min Summary: During meals with her family, peace is never an option for Daphne.

A rock song played inside the viscountess's suite, blocking any noise from the outside world. With her pug nested on her lap, she added the finishing touches of her makeup, moved her head from one side to another, scrutinizing her handiwork, and smiled. At uni, she rarely had spare time to sit down and leisurely use artistic skills on her face. And even if she can't do anything over the top for her family's Christmas lunch, it still felt nice to add a little glow and color to her look.

As she began to brush her hair, her eyes landed on the locket inside its necklace box. For a moment, she wondered how he was, if he was following his doctor's orders,  if he missed her. Then, she picked up the necklace and put it on.

"Daphne?" Lord Vincent called after knocking on the door.

"Come in, Dad."

The earl opened the door, stepped into the room, and smiled. "It's good to see you're ready for lunch, my dear."

"Almost. I'm still deciding which accessories to wear."

"I see you already picked one. Is it new?"

"Yes, it's a Christmas gift from Hamid. And look." She opened the locket and lifted it for her father to see.

As he approached his daughter to look closer, his eyes softened at the picture inside it. "Is that a replica of your painting?"

"Mmmhmm." She beamed.

"How thoughtful of him. It's a wonderful gift."

"I agree."

"Is the other one a silhouette of his profile?"

"Indeed it is."

"Hmm…" He smirked.

"What?"

"It's just an idea that came to me. We can talk about that another time. I'll be waiting for you downstairs."

"Okay."

"I know you're making up the time you were away with Drake, but I'm afraid you must avoid bringing him downstairs this afternoon."

"Why?" She eyed her father confused, placing a hand over her dog protectively.

"You know how a few of our guests feel about dogs, my dear."

Daphne twisted her lips in a scowl.

The earl placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "I agree with your resentment, but you understand that, as a politician, I must make a few compromises sometimes."

"Yeah, I do…" She sighed. "It's okay. I'll take the backdoor exit later when I leave with him for a walk."

"Thank you. Don't worry about him. I asked Pavarti's newest employee to prepare something special for him."

"I haven't met her, but Mrs. Daly spoke very highly of her. Is she still here?"

"Yes. She took your suggestion to prepare a croquembouche."

"That's a first. I can't believe the countess approved a suggestion of mine."

"It wasn't her. Mother did. She said it's an excellent choice, very festive."

"Oh…" Her eyebrows rose in surprise.

Lord Vincent glanced at his watch. "It'd be my pleasure to spend the afternoon talking to you, my darling, but our guests will arrive any minute now."

"It's alright, dad. I understand. I'll see you downstairs."

The earl touched the doorknob when he looked back at his daughter looking through her jewellery. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Always.”

“Mary’s diamond earrings will go really well with your new necklace.”

Daphne analysed the earrings and lifted one to her ear. “We have a winner. I didn’t know you had such a good eye for jewellery, my lord.” She grinned, putting on the accessories.

“I have my moments.” He beamed then kissed the top of her head. "Don't take too long."

"Okay."

Daphne watched her father walk away and looked at her dog, running a hand along his body. "Sorry, buddy… You'll have to stay here. But at least you get to avoid snob people and you'll have great food."

The pug barely reacted, his eyes fluttering shut as his owner continued to scratch his short fur. Once he fell asleep, Daphne put him down on his bed and left the room.

"Hey, stranger." A male voice called from the foyer as she climbed down the stairs.

"Harry!" Daphne rushed down the stairs and pulled her younger brother to a hug. "I missed you."

"Did you? When father told us you weren't going to join us last night, I was almost certain you wouldn't even come back. You'd simply ask somebody to send all of your things to Türkiye ."

"How dramatic..." She nudged him playfully. "I was just worried about Hamid and I needed to see him."

"Is he okay?"

"Yes. Everything points to full recovery in six months."

"Or less if he follows his doctor's orders."

"Oh, I know. That's why I said six."

The siblings chuckled.

"Oh, great. You're here. Again." Theresa's unmistakably brashy voice echoed in the foyer as she walked in, arms intertwined with Edmund's, who threw his fiancee a side glance.

"What? She's never here. Good afternoon, Harry," she greeted him with a smile.

"Good afternoon, Theresa," Harry replied. "She is right, though," he teased.

"Well, unlike some people who seem to be here all the time and think of higher education as if it's an accessory, I actually attend classes at Cornell because I intend to pursue a career in the future."

"Daph, please. It's Christmas…" Edmund pleaded.

"Fine..." Her scowl quickly dissolved into a smile as she approached her stepbrother. "Is everything ready for our movie marathon?"

"The popcorn will be ready when you come back from the soup kitchen."

The viscountess beamed.

"Welcome back, Daphne. Merry Christmas!" Edmund said.

"Thank you. Merry Christmas, Edmund!" Daphne rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

As she pulled away, he nodded with his head towards Theresa. The lady pursed her lips, but as he gave her a pleading look, she rolled eyes but caved, forcing a smile to her stepbrother's fiancee. "Merry Christmas, Theresa."

"Likewise," Theresa replied icily.

Noticing the ladies sizing each other, Harry intertwined his arm with his sister's. "Well, that was entertaining, but I see a bottle of Chardonnay with my name on it from here."

"We'll greet the guests. See you two at the table?" Edmund said.

The siblings nodded to one another and quickly made their way in opposite directions.

"When are you both going to let this go? Briar and Ed ended things months ago," Harry questioned.

"It's not just about that."

"Sis, you know I always support you, but if this is about school days grudge again, I swear to Baby Jesus—"

"Champagne?" A waiter offered as he passed by.

"Yes, thank you." Daphne picked up a glass.

"It's about that other subject, isn't it?" He looked at his step-sister in worry as she took a sip of her beverage.

"Can we not talk about this here?"

"You always say that. Then you keep avoiding it until in any way you can and I need to know why."

"Harry, don't. I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

Despite the frown on his face, Daphne was resolute about the matter. Her family had been through a lot since then. It wasn't her place to create tension between her half-brother and stepmother, even though the latter didn't deserve such kindness. As uncomfortable silence settled between them, the two of them parted ways.

The lady then strolled into the kitchen, where a dark-skinned woman not much older than her added spin sugar decorations to the tower of perfectly arranged éclairs while the rest of the staff worked on the plating of the appetizers.

"Whoa…" Daphne blurted.

The woman's head snapped up. "Um… may I help you, miss?"

"Don't mind me. I just like to see when chefs prepare food. Culinary is a fascinating field."

The woman smiled as she looked down to add the finishing touches on the tower of éclairs. "I agree. Are you a culinary connoisseur?"

"Not at all. I just like artistic things and eating."

The woman giggled, but then realization dawned on her face. "Oh, are you Lady Daphne Foredale?"

Daphne fought back a grimace at hearing someone her say her title out loud and smiled politely. "Yes, but just Daphne is fine. You're working with Mrs. Daly, right?"

"Yes." The lady removed the plastic glove from one hand and extended it for a handshake. "Alisha Hastings."

"It's really nice to meet you, Miss Hastings," she said, replying to the handshake. "Thank you for filling in for Mrs. Daly. Everything here looks amazing."

"It's my pleasure to meet you and work here. And please, just Alisha. I'm glad you suggested croquembouche for dessert. It gives me a chance to get a little creative."

"No problem. It'll be a fantastic change of pace from fruitcake and spotted dick. Besides, I won't have to look away or be afraid to spit out wine when everyone starts complimenting the dish with 'oooh, this spotted dick is so soft!'"

Alisha pressed a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes to stop herself from laughing. The rest of the staff mimicked the cook's gesture.

"I'm sorry. That was so childish. I'm distracting you, aren’t I?” Daphne grimaced. “I just stopped by to meet you and thank you. Especially for preparing a treat for my dog."

"It's no trouble. I think it's unfair that he can't walk around in his own home because some people don’t like dogs."

"Me too. But it wasn't your job to make something for him. So thank you. I promise I'll get out of your hair now."

Alisha grinned. "You're welcome. You should probably go to the dining room. We'll start serving the appetizers soon."

"Oh, okay. It was nice to meet you."

"Nice meeting you too." But the lady stepped away, Alisha called. "Hey, are you helping at the soup kitchen later today?"

"Yes. I'll just have lunch and wait until I can leave."

"Good. I'll see you there."

"Oh, you're going too? If you want, we can go together. The driver will take us both there."

"I don't want to impose…"

"You're not. Once you're done here, just let me know. We're both going to the same place and you're helping the homeless at Christmas after work. The least I can do is offer a ride."

"Thank you, ma'am…" Alisha shook her head when the lady cocked an eyebrow at her. "Uh, sorry… Thank you, Daphne."

"You're welcome. I'll see you later."

As the feast was served, Lady Dominique conducted the guests among different topics of conversation as usual. Less chatty than most people at the table, Daphne simply ate and occasionally smiled whilst her brothers and friends engaged in random topics of discussion.

"Are you okay, Daph?" Annabelle asked.

"I'm fine."

"Missing Istanbul already, sis?" Harry teased.

"We won't judge. I spent one morning there and I miss it," Bartholomew added.

"Is it really what you're missing, Bartie?" Annabelle smirked.

Bartholomew replied with a secretive smile that raised chuckles among the young friends.

"I don't see what could be so interesting about Turkey. Isn't it a mussie country?" Theresa inquired, only to earn glares from Daphne, Annabelle, and Bartholomew.

"First of all, Türkiye is a secular state. And second, for the love of God, don't ever repeat that word again," Edmund berated, attracting the attention of the other guests and a glower from his mother.

Theresa threw him a side glance.

"How can you say that, Theresa? Istanbul is a city between two distinct continents. Do you have any  idea of how much of human history that country holds?" Annabelle inquired.

"Christianity and many of the saints we look up to were born there," Lady Dominique spoke up.

"You're both right," Lord Vincent acknowledged.

"Istanbul is the largest city in Europe. Its history, the many cultures living there, Hagia Sofia, Blue Mosque, Bosphorus bridge..." Ernest added.

"I heard you drew the Bosphorus bridge, Daphne. You have to show me your sketch," Annabelle enthused.

"I did." Daphne smiled coyly at the memory of showing her drawings to her boyfriend. "It still has a lot of work to do on it, but I'll welcome any of your suggestions."

"It's good to see you've been improving one of your skills, Daphne," Lady Dominique said.

The viscountess's eyes darted to her grandmother. They haven't spoken to each other since their argument. She wasn't mad anymore, yet she didn't expect the headstrong dowager countess to be the one who would take the first step to make amends.

"Thank you, lady grandmother. I always take some time to improve myself. It'll be crucial for my career."

"Sure, if you call street art a career path…" Theresa sniggered.

"Careful, dearest Theresa. It isn't kind of you to belittle the work of people less fortunate than us in a day like this. After all, being a socialite and trophy wife is a title only relevant to those who are too dense to read anything other than tabloids." A corner of Daphne's mouth lifted.

Among disapproving looks and giggles suppressed, Viscount Lochdale doubled over. "Your honesty is refreshing, Lady Daphne. You've been missed on social gatherings."

"Yes, the parties are lacking some scandal." Theresa sneered.

"Of course you would notice that instead of being on campus to attend classes," Daphne retorted.

"Well, I believe you're right to pursue higher education. We live in modern times after all. Women should have a career of their own. I'm proud Felicity is doing the same," he said, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"Thank you, father." A smug smile crept on Felicity's lips, who had been talking only to the elders and her boyfriend until then. "I joined a study group about the concept of behaviourism and operant conditioning. Those techniques can be so useful to financial companies." She hinted, looking between her father and boyfriend. Whilst the first grinned, the latter took a sip of a wine avoiding eye contact with anyone at the table.

"Using radical behaviourism theory on the working class does seem like something you would do," Daphne commented.

"A compliment from the future street artist?" Felicity mockingly gasped. "Why, thank you!"

"I never said it was a compliment," Daphne taunted.

"As if you are qualified to judge anyone after what you did…" Theresa mumbled, earning stern looks from the guests, with the exception of Felicity.

Rage burned on Daphne's eyes whilst Annabelle and Bartholomew gave her reassuring hand squeezes.

"I think on Christmas feasts like the one we're having now, we should concentrate our efforts on appreciating gifts and burdens the Lord gives us," Henrietta stated, much to the younger folks' surprise.

"Well said, my lady," Lord Vincent nodded, ceasing the discussion.

Clouds darkened Edgewater skyline when the viscountess walked by the lakeshore with her pug and her childhood friend. Helping at the soup kitchen was a nice way to distract herself from the disastrous Christmas feast. Yet, staying home when Theresa Sutton was there became as hard as it used to be six months ago.

"Ugh! I can't believe her! How dare she?!" Briar fumed.

"She obviously didn't learn anything with the lawsuit." The lady's tightened around her pug's leash.

"Of course not. This is why I told you the settlement wouldn't be enough. It wasn't even her money that paid for our apartment. It was her father's!"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure I can sue her for what she did earlier."

"That's so unfair!" Briar exclaimed.

"Tell me about it…" Daphne sighed. "Maybe I should talk to Arthur about that."

Briar stayed in silence.

"What? Aren’t you going to brag about how sexy his lawyer self is?" Daphne arched an eyebrow, to which her friend replied with a shrug. "Briar?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you alright?"

"Mmmhmm…" Briar replied, casting her glance down.

"Did something happen between you two?" Daphne looked at her friend from the corner of an eye.

"Between who?"

The lady pursed her lips.

"No. Nothing happened." The young woman sighed. "That's the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"Nevermind… you have a lot going on right now."

"But you're my best friend. If you're having a problem, I want to know and help even if all I can do is let you vent."

"I know…" Briar twisted a finger on one of her long locks of hair. "Let's take a seat first."

The two friends sat on the bench by the lake. The lady fished a few snacks from her bag and fed her dog whilst she waited for Briar to speak.

"I haven't heard from Arthur ever since he went to his grandparents' cottage two days before you went to Türkiye. And it started to upset me. You and Ann said it wasn't a big deal because he warned me the place has a terrible cell phone reception. But you know me…"

"You felt lonely."

Briar nodded. "Then yesterday, after I prepared everything we would need for today at the soup kitchen, Eddie showed up."

"Edmund?"

"Yeah… He came by to bring more toys for the kids. I thought it was odd, usually the driver brings this stuff. But he said Jonah was busy and brought the gifts himself."

"Why do I feel like there's more to this?" Daphne narrowed her eyes at her friend, who looked down at her hands. "Briar?"

"Do you remember those Louboutin pointe shoes I was saving money to buy?"

"Yes."

"He gave me a pair as a Christmas gift."

“Are you serious?” Daphne’s jaw slacked. “Those are made exclusively for celebrities like Dita Von Teese!”

"Of course I told him I couldn't accept it, but he insisted. I told him I didn't buy him a gift because we're not even friends anymore. He said it didn't matter. He just wanted me to know he was thinking about me."

"You had sex with him, didn't you?" The lady folded her arms.

"A little bit…"

Daphne pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh, Briar…”

"I know what you're thinking, but I was lonely! And you've seen him with Theresa. They're the worst."

"He's engaged! And you're with someone else! Someone who cares about you!" The lady insisted.

"I know! But it felt so good, so right..." Briar frowned.

Daphne shook her head in disapproval.

"Do you think I should tell Arthur?"

"Yes!"

"But Daph…"

"He's going to see those shoes eventually," the lady pointed out.

"I could say they're knock-offs…"

"Seriously?" Daphne stared at her friend.

"You're right…" She whined. "Ugh… Why do I do this?"

Daphne pulled her friend close, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "You were lonely and upset to be away from him during the holiday. It happens."

"It never happened to you."

"We're different people living different situations."

"Yes. You're not in love with two guys..." Briar looked down and petted her friend's dog, whose head rested on her lap. "I should've done what you did: give yourself a break to heal before getting involved with someone new."

"You don't know how to be alone."

"I can learn!"

"Briar, it's okay if you need more time to get over Eddie. But you have to be honest with yourself and with Arthur about it. And maybe seek extra help?"

"Like therapy?"

"Yes. I didn't move on from a broken relationship, hurting my family and myself on my own."

"But that was a lot for you to handle on your own. I can't pay a therapist just to whine about my ex."

"You can. Anyone can go to therapy, no matter how big or small are the issues to be solved."

"Really?"

Daphne nodded. "Text Veronica about that. Maybe she can help you find a therapist at Cornell."

"Okay…" Briar smiled weakly, but her features quickly changed to horror. "What if someone assigns Felicity to be my therapist?"

Daphne giggled. "I think only graduates work there."

"Well, that's a relief. Can you imagine her offering counseling services?"

“She’d definitely throw you in a Skinner box¹.”

The two friends guffawed.

"Thank you for not judging, Daph. It's good to have you back."

"Of course."

As the wind blew against their faces, Briar pulled her coat tighter. "We should go now. It's getting cold."

"Yeah…" Daphne looked back at the imposing Edgewater estate and sighed. "I have to go back eventually, right?"

"I can call mum and stay with you. We could call Ann to join."

"I'll take your offer," Daphne replied. "But I'll lock the door and hide the keys so you don't feel tempted to leave the room in the middle of the night."

"Good thinking."

With that, the two friends stood up and walked back to the viscountess's family house.

Harry carried a large bowl of popcorn in one arm and a beer when he walked in to find his brother alone in the lounge. "Hey, where's Daph?"

"Upstairs with Briar. She's still upset and doesn't want to be anywhere near Theresa."

"But Theresa isn't even joining us tonight. She went home."

"She's with mother actually. Something about planning the activities of the ladies' club. I don't know..." Edmund gave his shoulders.

"Mate, don't you think you're a little too harsh with her?"

"Are you defending her? Didn't you see what she did to Daphne today?" Edmund stared at his brother incredulously. "That was not the first time."

"I know, but it's also not the first time I see you mistreating her."

"Harry, there are things about these women that you don't know. And if I were you, I'd choose to stay in blissful ignorance."

The younger man eyed his brother in confusion. He wouldn't say something like this if he didn't mean it. But the youngest child of the Foredales was never fond of the family's old tradition of hiding secrets.

"Whatever. I'm calling Daphne and Briar." He placed the bowl and beer down on the coffee table.

"Suit yourself," Edmund mumbled as his younger brother headed towards the stairs.

On the first floor of Edgewater main estate, everything was quiet. Except for music coming from his sister's bedroom, he couldn't hear a thing. He then entered his room to leave his mobile charging when two distinct female voices coming from his mother’s suite caught his attention.

"Embarrassing a noblewoman in front of guests?! Are you out of your mind, Theresa?!" Henrietta snapped.

"It's Daphne! Making her life miserable is the plan!"

"Not in front of Vincent and guests like Viscount Lochdale, you lazy sod! And questioning the fact that she travelled to see her new boyfriend?!"

"But we want her to be unhappy!"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Theresa! Are you dead from the neck up or is it the effect of the entire bottle of Dom you had by yourself after Edmund dismissed you?" The countess hissed. "Don't you understand that for her to leave, she has to feel welcomed somewhere else? This diplomat she found in America is perfect!"

"But Felicity thinks—"

"I couldn't care less about what that spoiled brat thinks! As long as Daphne stays here, she'll always be a threat to my sons. If this diplomat takes her away, that'll be the best thing for all of us. Including you."

"But—"

"No buts! If you still want to marry my son, you won't say a word against Daphne's newest relationship. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am…" Theresa’s voice faltered.

"Now leave. Your presence is giving me migraines."

Harry shook his head as he heard steps and sniffs whilst his mother mumbled. "Ugh, no wonder Edmund barely tolerates her when he wants sex…"

The minute he walked out of his room, the young man bumped into Theresa. "Oh!" His hands immediately held her by the shoulders.

"I'm sorry…" She managed to say.

"Don't worry about it. Are you alright?"

"Yes…"

"Are you sure?"

"It's been a long day. I'll just go home now."

"Of course…" Harry nodded, releasing her. "Have a good night, Theresa."

She looked over her shoulder and gave him a tired smile. "Have a good night, Harry."

-----

¹ Operant conditioning chamber created by B.F. Skinner to study animal behavior.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

Throwback Fics #42

The Crown & The Flame

This Sentimental Stuff | Val Greaves x Kenna Rys - @lorirwritesfanfic​

Desire and Decorum

Second Chances series - @missameliep​​

Chapter 19: The Foredales’ Issues | F!OC, Dominique Foredale, Felicity Holloway

Unspoken Desires series - @princess-geek​​

Like The Fireflies | MC, Briar Daly, Mary, Pavarti Daly

The Elementalists

Detention XIII: What Did You Do? | Beckett Harrington X F!MC - @storyofmychoices​

Open Heart

First Impressions | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @liaromancewriter​

Music & Secrets (Part 2) | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @utterlyinevitable​

The Love Of His Life | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @lem-20​

The Nanny Affair

Bachelorette | M!Sam Dalton x MC - @pixie88​​ [adult content]

The Royal Romance/ The Royal Heir

University Student Ellie (Ali) - @bebepac​​

Crown Princess Blues | Liam Rys x MC, MC2 x M!OC 

When You’re Not Looking | Liam Rys x MC - @jessiembruno​​ [adult content]

[kinda-iconic]

Hehehe 😂

[griffinsabina]