#atticus doherty

***

Dawn broke over the city of London, and Matthew was awake for it. He was sitting on a balcony overlooking an empty street, dressed in a loose-ish dark red shirt and dark blue denim jeans (Galileo had told him that it would be best to dress smart-casual for the first day). He was eating breakfast as he sat there, every few seconds turning to look at the suitcase just behind him. It was everything he’d apparently need for the next four months.

Finishing breakfast, he left the balcony and carried the bowl and the suitcase downstairs to the kitchen. Sitting there reading the paper was a man in his early fifties with short brown hair and a small beard along his chin. He turned to Matthew and smiled. Matthew tried to smile back, and not look at the headline which read “CENTRAL LONDON FIRE AND BREAK-IN: INVESTIGATIONS ONGOING”. Funny. He’d been the victim of one and the cause of the other.

“You all ready, then?” Peter Luther asked, putting the newspaper down. “You know, I’m really proud of you for doing this. Putting yourself out there, and getting some great experience, too.”

Matthew nodded, smiling in the same way he’d smiled at that Reflection employee two weeks ago. “Yeah, it’s great that they offer short courses like these at colleges. It’s not completely related to my degree, obviously, but there’s a lot more crossover than you’d expect.”

“Well, you’d be the expert in that.” Peter shrugged. It was a pretty good cover story, all things considered, but even someone like him, who’d left school at 16, could tell that going from biology to astronomy was something of a leap. “But I trust you, Matt, I want you to know that. Make sure you enjoy yourself up there, okay?”

“Course I will, yeah.” Matthew paused as he saw a car pull up outside. “Ah, there’s my friend I told you about. I should probably head off, don’t want to keep them waiting…”

Peter gave Matthew a brief hug and smiled at him. Matt said another quiet “bye” to his Dad and opened the door, taking a brief look at the pictures on the wall before leaving. Some had four people in them, but most had three. Blinking for a moment, he turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him. He went to get in the back of the car, before hearing the voice of the driver.

“In the front, Agent Moon, if that’s alright.” came the voice of Agent Terra, who was sitting in the driver’s seat. He looked in to see Agent Gaia sitting at the back, a laptop on her legs and a pile of folders in the middle seat that had toppled onto the third seat due to the movement of the car. “We’re meant to be working right now, but…we wanted to have a chat before you started training.”

Terra pressed a button and the boot door opened, allowing Matt to put his suitcase and rucksack in. Closing it back down, he walked over and got into the passenger seat, and had barely put his seatbelt on when the car,a decently expensive one from what Matthew could tell, started moving.

Gaia cleared her throat as they passed through the London streets. “See, Agent Galileo told us you were off today, and that she’d be sending Agent Eclipse to pick you up. And Terra wasn’t sure-”

“Hey, don’t pin all this on me, ok?” Terra said, rolling his eyes. “We both agreed that it’d be better if we were the ones to do it. Just to make sure…uhm…”

“That Atticus wouldn’t scare me off?” Matthew guessed. The two looked at each other before Terra refocused on the road.

“Something like that.” Agent Gaia said in a hushed voice, looking down at her laptop screen. “It’s weird knowing his name now, but honestly, it fits him. Galileo did tell us not to tell any other agents, though. Eclipse likes to keep his secrets, after all.”

Matthew thought about the years he’d known Atticus. They’d played together as kids whenever they were allowed over to see his mother’s side of the family. That visit where he’d told Matthew to go for the MI6 job was the last time he’d seen Atticus in years. “Yeah, I guess he does. I feel bad for having yelled it out, um, back at E- um, Agent Galileo’s office.”

“Don’t worry about it, you had no way of knowing.” Terra reassured him, taking another turning as the car snaked through the London suburbs. “If I’d seen one of my cousins working as a spy, I’d probably have the same reaction. Though probably best to switch to Eclipse while you’re training.”

Matthew nodded, looking out of the window as the buildings around them gradually became further spaced apart and shorter as they entered the Greater London area. The patchwork of suburbs that surrounded the city made for a nice view as the car sped through, the traffic minimal seeing as they had passed the morning rush hour. He noticed that Terra wasn’t following a satnav or a phone, and instead appeared to know the route from memory. Terra briefly looked back at Matthew and smiled, with Matthew smiling back, before turning his full attention to the road once more.

“You all healed up, by the way? Some of those bruises looked pretty nasty.” Terra asked, scratching his head as he took the car onto an A-Road. The expensive-ish houses around them gave way to the green and pleasant fields of the English countryside, minus the housing development site or two.

Matthew turned back around, having been counting how many fields of sheep he saw. “Oh yeah, uh, I’m more or less perfect. The stuff Agent Luna gave me cleared them up in no time.”

“Yeah, Luna’s the best.” Gaia smiled from the back seat, her quiet typing having not stopped since the journey began. “Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never really needed the Medical Team’s help, being a handler and all.”

Terra chuckled. “Nope, me neither.”

Gaia suddenly cleared her throat. “Well, actually-”

“Oh, for god’s sake-”

“I have a rather distinct memory of you burning your finger on the toaster in the break room-”

“It was a bad burn!” Terra hissed, rolling his eyes as the car came to a stop at a red light.. “It needed medical attention!”

“Yes, and Agent Luna was there to provide; her invaluable guidance of “stop screaming and run your hand under the tap” really saved the day, didn’t it?” Gaia snorted, clearly remembering the incident in vivid detail in her head. “At least she had the decency to say you were very brave and it wasn’t your fault the toaster was still warm.”

“You are totally misrepresenting things!-”

Matthew watched all of this with a bemused expression. “Um…light’s green, um…” he muttered.

“If you hadn’t denied it, I wouldn’t have had to explain!”

“I denied it because I knew you would explain!”

Matthew cleared his throat, albeit quietly. “Um, the light is-”

There was a loud honk from behind, and Terra hastily moved the car forward. Silence followed for a few seconds, before Matthew couldn’t help but laugh. Eventually, the twins followed.

“Sorry, Moon, didn’t mean to…” Terra paused, covering his mouth to hold in more laughter. “This is why we tend to stay back at HQ. At least there we can argue all we want without annoying anyone.”

Matthew simply smiled. “It’s not annoying to me, really. As long as you keep your eye on the road, you can argue all you like.”

Gaia sifted through the notes on the seat beside her. “Well, that’s very nice of you to say. And once you’re through training here, you’ll get to listen to us argue a lot more.”

“I look forward to it.” Matthew said, watching as the countryside scenery continued to roll on by. Eventually, he spoke up again. “So…I’m guessing you can’t say much about the training, right?”

Terra shrugged. “Well, they change it every time, since people can retake it and everything, but the basic principles are always the same. You know, physical ability, problem solving, teamwork, ability to deal with the stresses of the job, all that stuff.”

Matthew had assumed as much, but hearing it from someone else made it all feel a lot more real somehow. “I see…wonder if I’ll have to retake it…”

Terra and Gaia looked at each other briefly. “Are you joking?” Gaia chuckled, leaning forward to look at Matthew. “You’ve already got a successful mission under your belt, what do you have to worry about?”

“Yeah, but…” he trailed off, his smile fading. “A lot of that was down to you two.”

Terra sighed. “Look, we appreciate it, really. But you can’t sit there and say that some of that wasn’t because of your own skills, right?”

Matthew shrugged. “I…I guess? I dunno, sorry, um…” he stammered, wincing at himself. He tried not to think about what Bill would say if all of this was for nothing, or what Terra and Gaia would think of the person who took Bill’s title, or even what Eclipse would think. “I just don’t know if I can do it again.”

“Well…” Terra said, a small smile appearing on his face, “There’s only one way to find out.”

The car drove through a roundabout, off the A-Road, and past a hill with some trees on it before a vast compound came into view. There were half a dozen hills scattered across the area, each with its own domed building with a large telescope sticking out of it. Matthew watched as small shuttered hangars, large antennae, and smallish buildings that reminded him of university housing went by, until Terra stopped the car by the front entrance, a sign over the doors reading “Haverhill Observatory - Operated by The Midnight Foundation”.

“Alright, this is you.” Terra said, leaning back in his seat. “Gaia, his things?”

Gaia leant forward again and passed a document of some kind with a card paperclipped alongside it. Matthew took it and noted Agent Galileo’s signature on it, as well as a blue stamp with the Midnight Foundation’s logo on it. He got out of the car and held up the paper. Sure enough, the stamp matched the logo next to the double doors. He turned back around to grab his bags from the boot, before turning back to the twins.

“Thanks for this, I really appreciate it.” He looked down at the card quickly, and was surprised to see that it had the image from his MI6 file.

“No worries, Moon. We’ll see you on the other side, yeah?” Gaia said, waving to him with a smile.

Terra gave a wave and a nod too. “Good luck, mate. They won’t know what hit ‘em.” Both agents rolled up their windows, and the car rolled away. Matthew stood there for a second, took a breath, and turned towards the double doors. Entering, he saw that the architecture was quite similar to that of the London Headquarters, though much smaller and without the large carvings and sculptures, instead favouring detailed paintings of the solar system as well as several stars, presumably ones discovered here. 

Not wanting to be late, he stepped towards the desk. He would have said something (hopefully something coherent), but the receptionist interrupted before he could.

“Card and certificate, please.” He said, in a tone that suggested that he’d be spending most of today saying those four words. Matthew obliged, and watched as he stamped the certificate once more before putting it in a pile of certificates nearby. Matthew guessed that maybe 7 or 8  people had arrived here before him. That made him feel some amount of relief: he probably wasn’t late. Once the receptionist had scanned the card, he passed it back to Matthew.

“Oh, thank you-” he said quietly. The receptionist looked up in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected to be thanked, before continuing to type away on a computer.

“...You’re signed in…Agent. Would you like to be known as Matthew Luther for your time in training or choose another name?”

It was now Matthew’s turn to be surprised. He knew they’d have to take measures to make sure people didn’t know about just how he’d been recruited, but to take on a new name? He thought about it for a moment, about what he wanted his name to be associated with, and-

“Matthew Luther is fine, thank you.” He said, adjusting the collar of his shirt a little. The receptionist typed this into the computer. Another button pressed, and there was a click from the door to the left.

“Thank you, Mr Luther. If you’ll continue into the cloak room you can drop your luggage there. It will be brought to your room. Then, continue on until you reach the meeting room.”

Matthew nodded, and started on his way before pausing and turning back around. “Sorry, um, I don’t suppose there’s a map or something, is there?”

The receptionist’s face formed a smile, a sort of this is my favourite part of the job smile. “You should be able to find it. If not, a member of staff will come to collect you.”

Matthew clicked his tongue. “I see. Thanks again.” he said, turning back to the door, his brain registering the feeling that the training might have already begun.

The cloak room, at least, seemed fairly normal. He slotted his suitcase in the nearby rack, which seemed to operate like an airport baggage claim in reverse, with the baggage disappearing from view as the rack spun around. It now occurred to him that he had very little trust in this place, and found himself wondering what was and wasn’t a test. Needless to say, he decided to keep a hold of his rucksack just in case. Slinging it on his back, he opened the other door and left the cloakroom. He found himself walking through a thin, brown corridor with several framed signs on the wall. One read “DO NOT TRACK MUD INTO THE OBSERVATORY”, the next said “PLEASE DO NOT LITTER OR LEAVE BELONGINGS BEHIND”, and the final one read “BE CAREFUL - EQUIPMENT EASILY DISTURBED”.

Matthew could admit that he felt a little patronised by all this, but knew he had to balance this with the fact that somewhere in those signs was the guide to not failing at the first hurdle. Cautiously, very cautiously, he opened the door into the next room, though stood in the doorway without going right in. This room was wider than the last one, and a lot less brown too. The floor consisted of several metal squares, which looked similar to the material that escalators were made from. To his left and right, the walls were covered in pipes and venting, as white as the wall they covered. Finally, Matt looked up at the ceiling, which oddly enough reminded him of the ceiling of a classroom.

Surely not was Matthew’s first thought. He had been taught during his time at MI6 to disregard any and all cliches from spy movies, even the ones as subtle as using codes and ciphers. These days, all messaging was done in encrypted programs. But considering the Midnight Foundation already had a propensity for the use of gadgets, he realised he couldn’t be too careful. 

He took his rucksack off of his back, and pulled out one of the pens he’d packed. He wondered vaguely if the Foundation made pens that exploded as he tossed the pen into the room. The pen bounced off the square it hit perfectly, then the next one just the same, but it was when the pen landed in between two of the slits of the metal that Matthew realised what the problem was. Slowly, the square the pen had landed on started to tilt.

Matthew leant down to look at the square closest to him, or rather through it. He pulled out his phone and the light passed through, revealing a large pool of mud. This was a military survival course crammed into an observatory. He had to marvel at the ingenuity of it all, a smile forming on his face as he lent on the doorframe. He looked over to the pen that he’d dropped. Judging by the signs, he probably shouldn’t leave it there, and so very slowly he put his bag back on his back and tiptoed towards the square where it had ended up. 

Fortunately, he’d thrown the pen sideways more than he had forward, and so in only three or four squares he’d almost gotten to it. Already starting to slip, he reached for the pipes, and was surprised to find they were sturdy enough to hold his weight. Something occurred to him at that moment. He pulled himself further to the edge of the room, grabbing another pipe to do so, and hoisted his feet up to rest on the pipes too. They didn’t budge. Loosening a finger, he tapped on the pipes, and as he’d suspected, there was the thunk thunk of a decidedly un-hollow “pipe”.

A full smile on his face, he started manoeuvring across the wall of pipes, picking up his pen as he went along. From this angle, he could make out several muddy footprints across the other half of the room, presumably from people who tried to brute force it. For Matthew, it seemed the rules of hiking applied to this test: Leave no trace. It seemed incredibly fitting for spies too.

Across the room he went, tapping the pipes before putting his weight on them just to make sure the Foundation hadn’t put any decoys in to mess with anyone who’d found the solution. He came to the far wall, and looked over to the door. There were a few squares between him and the door, which by far had the most mud on them. It seemed the challenge of the room wasn’t over just yet. Something else had caught his notice as well. The footholds that seemed designed into the pipes had been going upward, so much so that Matthew’s brown hair was brushing against the ceiling. Unable to help himself, he stretched upward a little and felt the square in the ceiling move upward. He’d always wanted to do that whilst at school.

He shook his head as he focused his attention on the door, head still brushing against the ceiling. Did they want him to jump for it? He considered it and got ready to go for it, trying to get as high up the pipes as possible, before realising that there was no longer a ceiling overhead. He looked up, and a pair of hands was holding the square. There was a gasp, and the hands dropped it. Matthew didn’t have time to stop it hitting him square in the face, but at least was able to reach out to grab it before it fell onto the floor. He coughed and sputtered from the dust, before looking up at where the hands had come from. There was a light.

He was only able to stammer the word “H-Hey!” as he quickly clambered upward, having to breathe in a bit to get his long legs through. He placed down the ceiling part and breathed a sigh of relief as he hit solid ground. He really should have guessed that the ceiling at a state-of-the-art observatory shouldn’t have done that. The area above the room was dusty and small, the light Matthew had seen emanating from a crawl space in the wall. 

Matthew’s attention, however, was on who the pair of hands had belonged to. Here on the ceiling with him was a woman around his age, perhaps a year or two older. She was fat and had brown skin, with dark curly hair and bright green eyes that reminded Matthew of his own, though they were more of an olive shade compared to his. She also, somehow, seemed even more nervous than him.

“Um,” he began, still getting his feet in through the hole in the ceiling, “hello. Sorry, um-”

Before he could say anything else, the woman made a noise that Matthew could only describe as a “squeak”. “Oh! I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to let that hit you, I was just trying to slot it back in! They…took marks off from me for it last, um…” she trailed off, and before Matthew could say anything else she had fled through the crawlspace, her red trainers dropping away with the rest of her into the light. Matthew turned back to look at the ceiling square, rubbing his forehead where it had struck him. He slotted it back in place, the light from the room below disappearing. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of the door below opening, a single footstep, and a muddy splash. Matthew chuckled silently as he moved towards the crawlspace.

To his surprise, the crawlspace didn’t lead to the room on the other side of the door, but instead veered left, ending at an exit 30 metres or so away. Matthew watched as the woman from earlier appeared outside, squatting down to put the grate back over it. Gritting his teeth, Matthew continued onward, trying his best to move quickly, though this was difficult as a result of his height. He kept going, making sure to avoid a few bits of mud here and there before reaching the grate himself. He reached out and pushed it open, and hoisted himself out. He got up, caught his breath, stretched, and put the grate back in its place.

At this point he was half-expecting a bottle with a label reading Drink Me or something of the sort, but instead, the room was totally empty save for a single door, and a sign next to it reading MEETING ROOM ONE. Not wanting to take any chances, Matthew once again opened the door and remained in the doorframe. This time, however, he needn’t have worried; inside was a fairly standard lecture room, complete with blue leather seats. Matthew saw 4 other people in the room already, the woman from the ceiling among them, as well as a man in his late forties at the front of the room.

“Ah, welcome. Thank you for arriving so promptly.” He said, adjusting the glasses on his face as well as his neatly combed hair. “If you could take a seat, we shall wait for the others before we begin.”

Matthew sat down near the back of the room, trying not to be too close to anyone. He leant back, the realisation that he had made it through a military survival course unscathed. He’d followed the signs the very best he could, but he couldn’t help but look over to the woman who’d been up in the ceiling. He promised himself to thank her at the next chance he got, having realised that if not for her, his feet would likely be covered in mud and he’d probably not even have found the room. He still wasn’t convinced that he had what it took for all this.

Over the next half an hour, about a dozen or so others came into the room, with varying degrees of mud on their clothes. Once that happened, the man at the front pressed a button on the laptop he was standing in front of. Five minutes later, and the door opened once more. A man and a woman wearing security uniforms gestured into the room, and around ten more people filed in, none making eye contact, every single one with mud on them. Matthew figured that the door must not have led anywhere. With everyone assembled, the man in front cleared his throat.

“Thank you.” He said, nodding to the two security guards who turned and left the room. “Well, on behalf of the Midnight Foundation, I’d like to welcome you all to Haverhill Observatory, and of course, to your Basic Training. Over the next four months we will build up and test the skills needed to be one of our agents.”

“Now, a lot of you come from various governmental departments, military espionage groups, private military companies and intelligence organisations. An agent of ours scouted you for your talents, as well as an interest in astronomy, and you were asked to attend this four-month training course.”

Matthew took a moment to examine the room. There was a group near the front who he recognised as fellow agents of MI6. They didn’t seem to pay him much attention. He’d never exactly minded that, but Matthew was starting to wonder if that had been a mistake on his part.

The man continued. “My name is Agent Hubble, and I will be overseeing this first part of your training. Much of this first month or so will involve you getting used to the very basic duties an Agent has to follow, featuring a mix of spywork and astronomy. You’ll notice that for an agency like this one, we’re rather open amongst ourselves about the fact that we are, indeed, spies. We are secret agents. This is true above all other things, at all times. What that means for each of you may differ slightly, but it should nevertheless bring you to similar conclusions about what to prioritise when on missions.”

“Now, to begin. I’d like to ask you all to find someone to work with. We have surmised over several years of carrying this training out that cooperation is one of the skills least developed in our recruits, and so to correct this we have decided to create opportunities to use this skill from the very beginning of your time here.”

Matthew felt like his stomach was about to turn in on itself. He’d done so well up until this point, even if he’d needed a bit of help, and now it was all bound to collapse. He knew how this would go. He looked over at the group of recruits from MI6, and sure enough they were either pairing up with their friends from other groups or with each other. He felt an urge to just leave the room, but then he turned to see the woman from earlier. He recognised the exact same things he was feeling at once, from the stomach ache to the eyes looking around the room trying to decide what to do. He stood up, adjusting his rucksack, and crossed the room.

“Um, hello-” he began, in very much the same way he had when she’d dropped the ceiling on his head. “S-Sorry, I, um…I wanted to, um…”

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that, really, don’t let me take up your time-” she insisted, her french accent still as strong as before.

“Wait, um, that wasn’t…I actually wanted to thank you.”

The woman raised her eyebrow. “Really?”

“Well, I would have had to do the walk of shame otherwise, I imagine, so…yeah.” Matthew shrugged.

She blinked, unsure how exactly to respond. “Oh…well, it’s no problem, really. You should…probably find a partner, though…”

“Yeah, um…” he sighed, looking out over the lecture hall. “...I don’t exactly know anyone here. Would it, um…would it be ok if I worked with you? It’s totally ok if not, um…” he said, trailing off as he winced at himself. The others seemed to make it so easy, but then again a lot of them seemed to know each other.

Matthew would have dwelled more on his failure to network if not for hearing: “Really? You’d…want to work with me? I…I should probably tell you now, this isn’t my first time attempting to pass, I’ve…had to retry it several times now.” she admitted, looking away for a moment.

“I’m ok with that.” Matthew replied bluntly. He couldn’t explain it, but for some reason when he talked to her it didn’t feel like he was struggling to find ways to respond. That he could trust her to be patient with him.

“Oh…well, as long as you’re sure.” She said, gesturing for him to sit down. “I should probably introduce myself. My name’s Camille..”

Matthew sat down, allowing himself to smile as the stress faded from his body. “Nice to meet you, Camille. My name’s Matthew.”

since when did hogwarts have a ballroom?

the swell of violins from inside the perplexing chamber was most certainly real, though, and lillian brushed out a wrinkle in her skirt before making her way into the crush of people. 

immediately overwhelmed, she pushed her way to the side of the ballroom, where she took a seat and waited to be asked to dance. just like she had been trained. the pinch of her corset made it hard to breathe, though it wasn’t even particularly tight. everything was loud and bright. 

to steady herself, lillian decided to pick a dancing couple to watch while she calmed down. her eyes fell on her cousin noah, dancing with a girl lillian remembered as skadi otteson. though she couldn’t see noah’s face, the way he stood and the gentle way his hand rested on miss ottesen’s waist spoke of sheer adoration. lillian was happy for her dear cousin, of course, but an ache formed in her heart of hearts as she fretted about never being loved like that. 

as she scanned the ballroom, eyes settling on other dancers, a soft tap to her shoulder made her jump. 

a familiar pair of forest-green eyes and an expression she hadn’t seen on this boy’s face before…

atticus doherty cleared his throat and extended a hand, a dusting of pink across his pale cheeks. she hadn’t seen him speak to anyone except frederick graham so far, and yet there he stood. 

“care to dance?”

————-

if damian maccarrick was going to be honest (which he always tried to be), he hated balls. he hated all the pretentious people who had never spent a day stealing to feed their siblings. he hated looking at his own shabby, frayed robes that aoife had patched a hundred times and knowing that he would never fit in. 

he did like the free food, though. 

he stood against the wall. he knew it was bad form, not dancing with any of the young ladies without partners, but. he couldn’t bring himself to dance with a woman. 

his gaze was, instead, drawn to a classmate. one he had loved from afar for so many years. 

lewis gallach. 

lewis was also standing against the wall, arms crossed. damian itched to talk to him, to take him in his arms and kiss him until neither of them could breathe and say everything bubbling under the surface for so so long. 

but he didn’t. 

instead damian leaned against the wall with a glass of punch in his scarred hands and his shabby robes still too small and hoped, dreamed, prayed for a world where he could love lewis openly. 

a world where he could tell him. 

but not today. 

so he stopped and hoped and dreamed and didn’t notice the rustle of robes as lewis moved closer and didn’t even notice until the smaller man’s shoulder was against his. 

a hand slipped into his…

————

helen walsh had always known, distantly, that she didn’t fit into this high english society. 

never was it more evident, though, than here. 

her american-styled cotton dress looked plain with all the glitz and gold of the others in the room. 

she pretended she didn’t mind, of course, being aloof would be her salvation. 

but her difference was eating her alive. 

she brushed a loose scarlet curl back and closed her eyes as she sat, desperate to get the night over with as fast as she could. 

the ballroom - where had that come from, anyway? - was filled with people laughing and talking and dancing and usually helen would be desperate to be in the center of the excitement but now, now she just hid in the corner and begged that no one would notice her fraying hem or her shoes that didn’t fit right. 

whispers of silk and hints of chiffon whisked by her and she smoothed a hand over her rough cotton gown, hoping they didn’t notice the way it stuck out. 

a weight settled on the sofa next to her but she didn’t look up, only trying to hide the runs in her stockings. 

a familiar voice spoke, then, and she jumped. 

“hey, what’s wrong?” asked fred graham. 

————

lady georgia coventry was fully in her element. 

switching from dance partner to dance partner as she laughed and twirled and let her gold skirts float around her, this was the place she belonged. 

as the song ended, she made her way off the floor to find her next partner, but was waylaid by primrose gray. 

“georgia, have you seen-“ prim stopped for a moment to breathe. she seemed exhausted, for some reason. 

“have i see what, exactly?” georgia asked, scanning the room eagerly. there went the kennedys…

primrose took another breath. “have you seen….have you seen laurent?”

georgia rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “i saw him by the punch not long ago, you might want to try there.”

a hint of a blush dusted itself across her friend’s cheeks as she excused herself, leaving georgia alone again and without a partner for the dance. just her luck. 

as she turned to go sit down - her feet could use a break anyway - she ran into something. 

rather, someone. 

adam ellis’s familiar voice ran through georgia’s very core as he murmured “hello, lady.”

curse her petite frame! she separated herself from him and scowled fiercely, biting out an apology. she was the future duchess of coventry, for merlin’s sake, and she could not be caught-

oh. he was warm. 

he offered her a smile, extended his hand, and whispered “might i have this dance?” 

“that’s not the phrase, idiot.” georgia shot back, but nonetheless she took his offer. 

————

lillian sat, frozen, for a moment. atticus seemed to take this as a rejection and made to leave, shoulders beginning to slump, but lillian caught his hand in her own. 

“wait- i didn’t mean-“

he turned back, then, and lillian was rendered breathless. 

“i…yeah. i want to dance with you.”

a hint of a smile made its way over his face as she took his hand and they made their way to the floor. 

as they began the dance, lillian realized that she was home. 

————

damian’s hands fisted in lewis’s shirt as he pulled him closer for what was not the first time. maybe he had too much champagne, but lewis wasn’t complaining either. 

the other boy’s lips were soft and plump and everything damian wanted as one hand dropped to lewis’s waist and pulled him even closer. 

damian knew he couldn’t have this forever. he knew that, in all likeliness, he could only have lewis for their school days before he lost him again. 

but he has him now, their lips moving together and lewis’s hands on his shoulders and damian’s hands on lewis’s waist. 

the chatter of the ballroom seemed to quiet as damian broke the kiss so both of them could catch their breath, damian still holding lewis close to him. both of them were rumpled and rosy, and lewis’s lips were as swollen as damian’s own felt. 

damian felt a reflexive laugh slip from his lips as he ran a hand through his dark curls and pressed a soft kiss against lewis’s cheekbone. 

the smaller man just let out a sigh and laid his head on damian’s shoulder, where he stayed. 

maybe they would be all right. 

————-

helen jumped as fred spoke and he raised his hands in surrender. 

“sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you, but you seemed upset…”

helen sighed. “i dunno…i don’t fit in with any of these people, yknow? i ain’t ever fit in, and i doubt i ever will.”

fred smiled, though something lurked just behind his eyes. “yeah, me too, i guess. all these people come from everything, but i’ve got nothing, yeah?”

helen nudged him with her shoulder. “you’ve got me, though, hm?” 

fred grinned, genuine this time. “yeah, i sure do.” 

————

adam’s hand on georgia’s waist felt better than she had anticipated, in all honesty. 

despite the fact they’d spent the previous few school years bickering, he was steady and gentle as they danced. she looked up at him, getting lost in his chocolate eyes as the steps to the dance ran through her mind. 

a crescendo, then, and he twirled her and caught her close to his broad chest. she couldn’t help the way her breath caught at their closeness. 

but no. she couldn’t feel this way for adam ellis. that would be preposterous. absurd. 

and yet…

butterflies fluttered in her stomach in time with the music and, though it may have been her imagination, she could’ve sworn he pulled her closer. 

the song came to an end and they bowed before georgia made her way to get punch and sit down. as she made her way towards the couch, a now-familiar hand caught her wrist. 

“miss coventry….” he began. “would you…like to do that again?” 

despite herself, a hint of a smile crossed georgia’s face. 

A small black carriage being pulled along by a single Abraxan thundered through the trees, the mighty stallion seemingly knowing where to go on instinct. Inside the carriage, a young man with bright scarlet hair tinkered and fidgeted with a collection of gears and cogs with a thin golden screwdriver. The woman sitting next to him placed her hand on one of his own, hers just about larger than his.

"Dear, it'll be alright, I promise." Helen Graham said to her husband, smiling down at him. She too had red hair, though hers was more orange. "We're here to celebrate, not to mourn or worry." she reminded him, her voice still retaining a Louisiana accent.

Fred sighed, leaning back on his seat. "I know, I know...I just wonder if he knows that."

"He's not your responsibility." Helen said, sharply. "If he does show up tonight, he knows full well that he's expected to be Merry."

"That's just the thing, though." Fred put the gizmo he was working on back in his pocket as the trees started to clear. "The grief hasn't dimmed his wits. He knows he's being unreasonable, but it's as if he physically can't help it. It must be driving him mad."

"Well, maybe this would do him some good. If Prim can't get him smiling again, no one can." Helen declared, as the huge estate very quickly appeared out their windows.

"I do wish you wouldn't jinx it like that, dear." Fred said, chuckling in spite of himself.

"I'll jinx you in a minute. I'm not having you both moping about, alright?" Helen said, a smirk on her face as the Abraxan pulled in outside Winbourne.

The pair got out, Fred checking the time on a gold and scarlet pocket watch of his own design. "Just on time, I think." He observed, putting it back in his pocket.

Helen leant forward and look at it before he stuffed it away, noticing a small hourglass at its center. "Don't tell me you put one of your Time-Turners in there?" she asked, incredulously.

"It's not a Time-Turner...it's also a Time-Teller, see?" Fred replied, that full grin returning to his face once more. "Come on, we ought to find our hosts."

They walked up the steps towards the gates, Fred pointing out things that caught his eye as they moved through the snow, Helen doing very much the same. It helped that Helen was able to use her Ancient Magic to keep the snow off of them, and Fred was able to slow down the snowflakes so they were suspended in time, very slowly completing their descent. Soon, though, they made it to the front doors, and the one on the left opened to reveal the Viscountess of Winbourne, Primrose Gray herself.

"Prim!" Fred exclaimed on impulse, earning him a raised eyebrow and laugh from his wife. At this point, of course, they had all known each other for years, and were used to Fred saying what came from the heart almost instantly. "...I mean, ah, Good evening, Lady Primrose. It truly is a pleasure to see you."

Prim smiled at the both of them. "Good evening, Fred, Helen. It is always wonderful to see you both. How was the journey? Not too snowy?"

Helen smiled a little and nodded. "Not for us, of course, or our Abraxan." she said, gesturing to the large horse. "A gift from Baroness Osada. She's got...quite a few equines back in Poland."

"I'm sure she does." Prim nodded, looking back briefly into the warm interior of the building. "Well, please, come right in, Malcolm will show you where you can put your coats."

Helen, who to this day had not acclimated to the British winter, nodded rapidly before following Malcolm inside. Fred took a step forward too, but paused. Prim stopped as well, looking over to him. "Something the matter, Fred?"

In his years dealing with it, Fred had found that he had developed almost a sixth sense when it came to telling where ancient magic was nearby. And he felt a very familiar source of it walking through the snow behind him. "...I do believe that's Mr Doherty approaching the gates."

Fred watched as Prim stepped outside, still a little shell-shocked that Atticus had even bothered to show up. Then again, at times the man now shuffling through the night looked like a stranger. His green eyes lacked that brilliant shine he had whenever he came up with a brilliant idea (or any idea for that matter), and his clothes seemed to flow around him, shifting in and out of the darkness. But what really surprised Fred was the fact that on his best friend's head, covering his jet-black hair, was a hat.

A Hat. If it were any other gentleman of the period, nobody would have batted an eye. In fact, it was what gentleman were expected to wear. Yet, here he was, in a hat, walking into Winbourne. Hell must have been as cold as it was outside that night. Fred wasn't sure what to do, but perhaps that was why he wasn't the one hosting. Atticus looked up at Fred and Prim, his expression unreadable. Lady Primrose kept the door held open. "Good evening, Atticus," she said, as the wind howled, the moon appearing briefly in between the clouds. "Welcome to Winbourne. Please, come in, you look frozen, poor thing."

Atticus blinked, clearly not having expected that. Fred recognised the expression now. It was the look he'd always give Lillian whenever she caught him out on a flaw in his logic. "...Thank you, Lady Primrose." he said, almost out of social etiquette. Good evening to you, too." And with that, he was up the stairs and walking into the house. Fred came in afterwards, followed by Prim. In a weird way, he had almost expected the cold to follow Atticus through into the house, but with Prim and Malcolm showing them to a cloakroom to drop off their cloaks and bags, Fred felt a small amount of warmth returning to him.