Xander Pucey

As he explained, it dawned on Mariela. She felt stupid for not considering it sooner. This was a Death Eater gathering, after all. Aeron would want his best soldiers present. It didn’t even dawn on her, so caught up in her misery, that this was the perfect time for an attack. She pushed the thought from her mind, giving a small nod of recognition. She didn’t say the words out loud, either; it almost felt as if it would make them come true. She looked at Xander, how present he was in the expressions on this stranger’s face, and she felt grateful. “I’m glad you’re here,” she admitted, realizing the truth of it as she spoke the words. Thoughts came to her, unbidden; years of following Xander and Zelus around, pestering, trying to fit in. Some of them had been miserable times but others… 

He said the name and Mariela felt something inside her chest tighten. She looked down at the ground between them, willing herself to have some restraint. She wouldn’t get emotional. She would not. Looking back up at Xander, she hoped they could both ignore the tears welling in her eyes. “This might have been more bearable if he was here.” She crossed her arms, a barrier, a guard. She offered Xander a small, sincere smile. “You’re a close second.” There was truth in the words, even if it was a joke on their standing within the Death Eaters. She’d grudgingly respected Zelus, even trusted him, but she’d idolized Xander. “Thank you for coming.” It was the first time all night she had meant the words. 

Though Xander did notice how watery her eyes were becoming, he knew not to speak on it. Still, he did take a single step forward and placed his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. It wasn’t spoken but his actions came with a silent message: if she wanted to cry, he understood. “He would be proud of you, Mariela.” His icy blue eyes did not stray from her face. She deserved to know that he meant those words fully, especially feeling that this was something that she needed to hear. It was also something that he needed to say. “I am.”

“Cheers to that, in the sincerest manner.” Freya brought her flute up to tap his, the softest of clinks to mimic the personal nature of the small toast. This was followed by the smallest of sips, keen on keeping her wits about her at all times as she always did. “If you’re ever looking for a reason to escape the office, perhaps we could catch a lunch some time?” She countered lightly, knowing she sounded like her father in his business manner. Much like him, she tried to establish new and prosperous alliances in her life. Perhaps someone who would understand how chained up she felt, a force ready to be set loose. 

His glass clinked lightly against hers before he finally brought the flute to his lips for a small sip. The bubbles felt unfamiliar on his tongue, too long since he had last tasted champagne. “I could always use a good excuse to abandon my desk.” An opportunity to have lunch with her could prove beneficial. The question of course was who he would appear as: Alaric or Xander. “What are your plans for this week, Freya? Or would that be too bold?”

As she took his hand, Audelia set down her flute beside his and followed him towards the dance floor. Perhaps the event wasn’t as formal as a ball, but the music was still of impecable taste and she couldn’t wait to dance. Typically, she grew bored of dancing rather quickly when she was asked by men she didn’t really fancy speaking with. But when it was someone she knew or at least someone she was interested in, the dances became her favourite moments. Once on the floor, Audelia turned to face Xander and set her free hand lightly on his shoulder. She wanted to say something, but what she wanted more was to let herself get lost in this moment of simplicity.

They may have been one of the sole pairs upon the dance floor, save an older couple holding to each other with such warmth as their feet moved slow, but Xander paid no mind. Nice on its own accord, but also allowing a moment for just the two of them- a task more difficult to achieve here than in his uncle’s study. His hand lay gently upon her waist as the other took her hand. As the harp bled into another song, he began to lead. “Are you enjoying yourself tonight?” Xander asked, having angled his lips towards her ear, their conversation meant only for them. “I do hope you’ve gotten a rest from talk of the war. You’ve certainly earned a night away.”

Briony took the offered arm. “I did intend to slip out for a while and check it out.” She admitted, a little embarrassed. While those who knew her knew of her love for flowers, strangers could act a bit strange about it. “Did you attend Hogwarts? I’m afraid I don’t remember ever seeing you there.”

Xander had remembered her interest in flowers, though he doubted that it was a detail he would likely ever forget. The garden, he thought, felt fitting. “I did,” he answered, keeping his words short until they had finally made their way into the corridor, the main room’s doors shut behind them. A glimpse at the empty hall meant he could now be more vocal, though also still needing to be careful. “I attended for a time. Unfortunate circumstances arose, meaning that I no longer was able to attend, nor graduate.” To aid in helping her connect who he was with his words, Xander looked to her, wanting to meet her eye.

The air was cool on her cheeks and it was what Mariela needed. She almost considered sliding all the way to the floor when a voice reached her ears. She repressed a groan, closing her eyes and counting slowly to five before opening them again. The stranger in front of her was confusing – why would someone she didn’t even know miss her? It set off alarms in her brain, making curious and wary all in the same breath. 

Pushing away from the side of the house, she watched him as he continued to speak. A pause. The light bulb clicked on and her eyes widened. “Xa-” she caught herself, realizing what he was doing, and shut her mouth again. “I can’t believe you’re here.” The words were true. She hadn’t expected him, disguise or not. Seeing him now, even if he didn’t look like himself, she felt a rush of affection. She’d always idolized Xander in many ways. Even once her girlhood crush had faded, she put him on a pedestal. Watching him with Zelus, she’d envied them both their status. With Zelus gone, that envy had shifted. “I’m happy to see you too,” she told him honestly, wrapping her arms around herself as she looked around, now highly aware that he was really there. “You’re taking quite the risk." 

Hearing her realization, he pressed his lips together, allowing a faint smile. Though not completely free of his mask, it was a relief to let some of the lies fall away for a moment. “Aside from my own benefit of having the opportunity to talk, Aeron felt it pertinent that I attend.” Xander wanted to leave it at that. Though he had no doubts about how strong a girl Mariela had become, he need not add to the pressures and worries of the evening by noting the full truth. Even a hint at Knockturn could turn any conversation tonight sour, make any set of eyes flash with a fear no mouth would admit to. No, that was a worry best left to him. “Risk aside, I needed to come.” For a brief second, his eyes shifted away from her, moving down the wall as he took a breath. What he had to say next was heavy, a certain name difficult to utter, especially when regarding his absence. “You deserve to have Zelus here.” They both did. As Xander picked his gaze back up to meet hers, the sad look that he could not fight back would have told her exactly that. He missed him as well. “I know I cannot take his place, but he would have wanted me to be here for you all the same.”

“Thank you, that is very kind.” Though really she would never turn up to any such event looking anything less than beautiful. As he brought up dancing, her smile settled into something softer. It would be their first dance as partners, their first dance with a new respect between them and Audelia was appropriately excited. “It would be rude of me not to. And as it so happens, I seem to have time right at this moment. If you are willing, of course.” There was a coy smile on her lips as she looked up at this blonde man and tried to imagine Xander’s true face in his place. It was the eyes that gave him away; still blue, still deep, still Xander.

This moment between them may have echoed that night months ago, but so much had changed from then to now. Tonight she was in on his secret. Tonight they were equals. “It would be foolish of me if I weren’t.” Xander looked away briefly to set his champagne flute down upon the table, not a single drop having touched his lips. An enchanted harp filled the room with a regal air. And with a single step forward towards the open floor, Xander met her eye once more, offering his right hand for her to take.

“Then you haven’t properly met Mother Rowle.” Freya pointed out, letting her eyes shift for a moment to see if she would be able to catch sight of her parents. They likely had already reached they point in the evening where they had forgotten about her. “I have quite a difficult time biting my tongue.” It was actually remarkable how well she was able to keep her thoughts in her head while at school, but her frustration was let out on allies instead, searching for her part in everything. Her angry nature was constantly searching for an outlet. “I must say it’s nice to not only be out of the house for once, but around my people.”

“I could not agree with you more.” His words were truer than she might ever realize. Even if he were not able to appear as himself, and even if his uncle had wanted him here for purposes of the war, Xander was thankful. Interactions outside of tonight were limited, even with people of their kind. He then lifted his champagne flute, looking to her as he readied a private cheers. “Here’s to the coming months, and to us having reason to escape our normal confines.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The question was a bit surprising and Briony hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t as if she knew this man but there were plenty of people around if he tried something. And she had her wand on her in case of emergencies. “That would be lovely.”

He knew how his request must have sounded. Knockturn had no doubt remained in all of their minds, leaving each to calculate risks closer than ever before. But he wished not to have this dance with her; it would be easier to speak candidly, and as himself without the restrictions of the room. “I hear the garden is rather nice,” he spoke, offering her his arm before ready to lead her away from the party, from listening ears.

The rooms had begun to feel stuffy. She was tipsy on wine, her feet were killing her, and she really wanted to go to bed. Unfortunately, the party seemed never-ending. Her father was still showboating, her mother was still mingling, and not a single guest had gone home. Mariela was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. It was almost too easy to convince Jake to take the brunt of the attention for a moment, allowing her to slip out onto the back porch. It observed her mother’s garden, which Romilda never personally had touched in her life, and Mariela considered blowing up a hedge near the house as she slumped against the wall. The noise from inside was still pounding in her ears but it was at least muffled now, making it far more manageable. 

She’d closed her eyes, enjoying the peace of the moment, thinking that maybe she could get through this in one piece if she had just a few minutes alone. That was when she heard footsteps. Sighing, she opened her eyes and took in the stranger in front of her. “If you’re here to tell me you’re happy for me, save it.” It was rude and her mother would have fallen over dead had she heard it but Mariela was past caring. 

Xander stood on the porch, the door having closed shut behind him. He needn’t look at her now to know how exhausted she must have been. Throughout the evening, he had been sure to keep an eye on her–– Zelus would have wanted him to. He also would have wanted for him to have downed the glass of whiskey held in his hand; that was wish that would have to remain unfulfilled. Xander, like Mariela, had a role to play tonight. An exhausting role.

He stepped forward, slow to approach. As much as he wished to speak to her, he knew equally how much she needed the fresh air and a break from the chaotic evening. “Am I allowed to tell you that I am happy to see you?” His chin lifted a touch higher as he took another few steps, now finally within arm’s reach of where she leaned against the siding of the manor. “Excuse the false face. Ideally, I would have come as myself but circumstances what they are that proves difficult.” Xander did not know if she needed more to be able to connect the dots as to who he was beneath the guise. He could only trust in that she had always been a smart girl.

The sound of her name pulled Briony out of her thoughts, which had been dark and unpleasant. The party hadn’t been doing her morose mood any favors. It was easy enough to pinpoint who it had been that had called out to her, the man was the only one looking at her. She smiled politely at him. “You are correct. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

“Alaric Rookwood,” he answered with a slight nod of his head. Xander turned for a moment to thank the bartender before picking up his drink and looking back towards Briony. It was good to see her, even if she had yet to know it was him. “Could I be so bold as to ask if you would like to go for a walk?”

Xander had finally decided to ditch the champagne- barely finishing even half of a glass’s worth since the start of the evening. Standing at the bar now, having just given his order for whiskey, he watched as the bartender reached for the best bottle. With a breath, he looked off to his side, meaning only to glance back towards the party but instead catching sight of a familiar blonde walking his way. He stood a bit taller, paying no mind as his drink was set down in front of him; instead he pressed his lips together, allowing the faintest of smiles to show before he spoke. “Briony Greengrass, correct?”

It took a moment for the true meaning of the words to hit Chryson. The moment they did, his head whipped toward Xander, staring his friend up and down before a smile settled on his face. “And you could never stay away from his cigarettes. It was a vicious cycle.” The smile didn’t last long, sliding away at the thought of Zelus and the easier days. “He should be here for Mariela tonight. Darius too.” His eyes dropped to the ground for a moment before he looked up to the stars. “It’s really good to see you.” The words were low, honest. If Xander was wearing someone else’s face, then there was someone at the party who he didn’t want to know his identity. Chryson wouldn’t be the one to spill it. Talking loudly with too much familiarity was practically inviting someone to overhead. “Polyjuice, I assume? Who are you tonight?” 

Sad smile still to his lips, Xander shook his head, recalling the routine of the Slytherin dormitory a bit differently. “Mine was a far less frequent occurrence.” When Chryson spoke his sentiments aloud, also reminding him of Darius’s condition, Xander nodded his head. He would have spoke more on it but speaking of his late best friend was difficult. It was easier talking about their memories of him than noting his absence. “Alaric Rookwood,” he informed, though to anyone who could have had a chance to overhear it would appeared as a simple introduction. Xander turned to Chryson, extending his act by extending his hand out for the other to shake. “You assume correctly. Unfortunately, I don’t have much opportunity to get out as I once did, but it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ve always liked sherry.” Freya responded lightly, not much thought into the statement. For many that would have been a normal topic of conversation, but any bit shared about herself was surprisingly personal. The company in the room that evening put her at ease, however. “How about we make a trade. You can help my mother start planning her own birthday, and I’ll take your place in the Ministry tomorrow.” It was a good humored joke, almost something light about it, maybe the bubbles uplifting her spirit. Shaking her head, she turned the flute in her fingers back and forth. “No, I could never be a ministry employee. Work with all the swine that cheated their way in there. I’m not sure how you do it.” Doing any work would have been good for her, if only her parents allowed it. 

“Truthfully, I am tempted; hardly seems like a horrible trade.” His interactions with Mrs. Rowle had been sparse, but he could trust in how ready Freya had seemed to abandon those plans - even in a joke- that the choice was not so simple. “There’s a lot of biting your tongue. The days are easier when you realize they will all be gone shortly.” Xander, even if he had not been seated in his position of leadership, would have believed in the cause until his very end. Victory was merely a mater of time.

“I’ve always thought so.” Freya replied simply, a reflection in the strength she saw in herself which others did not. It was partly where her anger stemmed from, that lack of acknowledgement. Women in her family were always meant to be strong, and the men the same but of a different kind. Her family expected her to be both, but never saw it as enough. She was a woman waiting her turn, but for how much longer?

The mention of champagne brought her attention back to their conversation and to the rising bubbles. “Although it could be better champagne.” When her parents had announced their plans for Freya’s betrothal to her, there had been champagne. She still remembered that first taste, holding onto that feeling still, whatever that moment was. A youthful, naive, hopefulness. “And what line of work would you been in, Alaric?” For the questions he would ask, she would give some in return, a fair trade. 

“I suppose I’ll trust your judgement; I’m partial to whiskey myself.” When he night would begin to draw towards a close, Xander thought he might pay a visit to the bar, finish the evening with just one, small glass. “Nothing too interesting, I’m afraid. Ministry work with the Transportation Office. I drew the short wand so I’ve been tasked with rushed paperwork on a Sunday.” It was the farthest thing from the truth. Alaric may have been spending his day behind a Ministry desk, but Xander would return to his uncle, providing his reports on the night before needing to disappear into the shadows again. “It isn’t exactly thrilling party conversation.”