drifting || christoph

Leona had been displeased at her mother’s insistence that the funeral parlor be filled with black roses; it felt ostentations, much in the same way that her uncontrollable wailing she had taken to behind that hideous black veil she wore all week. Though Leona did not doubt that her mother was indeed sad, any upstanding woman would feel pain at the loss of her firstborn, the young witch also understood it was a part of her mother’s persona to be unnecessarily dramatic. Her father had said little on the matter, in fact, he had taken to spending most of his days confined in his office finding solace in bottle after bottle of firewhisky. Out of all my children… he would start bitterly, though it took no expert to know how such a sentence would end. While being the middle child did not offer any benefits, Leona knew that if Luther Layton had a choice, it would have been her over his prized firstborn.

Everyone in the family had been shaken by the sudden death of Lycidas Layton, a promising young man a few years her senior that she had been proud to call an older brother. He had believed in her in a way that no one else in her family had and a part of her felt confident in the prospect that upon the death of their father, things would change significantly around the household. Unfortunately, the great things they spoke of to restore the glory of the Layton family name had faded with his sudden death, something that not even the best healers London had to offer could explain. Leona took a deep breath, her expression distant and her eyes reddened by the tears she had been shedding over the last few days.

“Thank you for coming,” she muttered softly, the melodious sound of her voice losing the liveliness with which she normally spoke. Her words felt empty, uninspired, and at that moment Leona wanted nothing more than to excuse herself from the place and not have to interact with another human being for some time. It was all social protocol, Leona could not remember or identify half of the adults in the room and though they expressed their sympathies with as much sadness as they could muster, she had a difficult time believing that any of them had felt remotely affected. It was unlike her to be so bitter but Leona could not help but feel that it was absolutely unfair to be expected to greet and thank guests when she needed time to process what had happened.

When her mother’s wailing became unbearable and it was obvious that the woman was losing her will to stand up, Leona excused them both, seeing an opportunity to get away even if just for a moment. Hilda, her mother’s personal maid, met the two right outside of the grand, master bedroom and took over with practiced ease and for a moment, Leona was left to her own devices. Closing her eyes for a moment, she took in the distant sounds of the reserved chattering taking place down the hallway considering whether she would be missed if she retired to her bedroom for the rest of the afternoon. As she weighed her options, she became suddenly distracted by the sound of shoes against the marble floors, the echoing much louder and much closer than she had anticipated.

“Mr. Klein,” she said, slight surprise in her voice as she turned towards the sound and encountered @Christoph Klein  , her expression softening as she regarded him, “If you’re looking for my father, he’s still in the parlor,” she continued. Leona could not quite smile but felt at ease in his presence, there was something about him that reminded her of her brother, something that made her feel safe. After all, he had valiantly attempted to resuscitate her brother at dinner that fateful night something that her mother had not stopped talking about since. Although the two of them had more or less begun a semblance of a relationship, Leona had not overcome the nervousness she experienced every time the two of them were alone, the overwhelming desire to hug him making her feel even odder than she already felt. “I want to thank you,” she said, walking closer to him and extending her hand in his direction, “for your valiant efforts with my brother, I was—truly touched by your actions,” she said softly, feeling tears beginning to resurface as she looked up at him.

It felt odd being there, mourning a death which he caused. He was a practiced actor, but this was an entirely new realm. He had never had to pretend so hard to be sad and somber, when deep down he felt a speck of satisfaction—the first in many years—at the way Luther seemed to react to the death of his firstborn. It was far from glee or true happiness. He had yet to feel anything of the sort since his wife’s terrible death. He had not processed it, and he had not moved on. Instead, he had held his pain and anger inside himself and used it to keep him going. A part of him, a small, irrational part, still thought that maybe she would come back once he had avenged her. He knew this wouldn’t be the case but he still felt as though he would feel closer to her and at peace once it was over. The same part of him didn’t really think he would have a life after this. He never planned to love again. He never planned to truly live after this. Ever.
 
Even so, for now, he was somewhat involved with this girl. Things had been perfectly chaste between them, no more than a kiss on the hand or cheek, as Christoph worried that any more might leave him feeling guilty. He hadn’t been with a woman since his wife died, not in any kind of way, not in passing, not physically. This was new territory for him, but it was a part of the plan and he needed it to seem, feel, be real.  He had been enjoying Leona’s company, to his chagrin. She was a nice girl. She seemed, in a way, to be rather innocent and pure. He hated to hurt her, but he knew it was part of the plan. She would need to be disposed of, as well, in the end. He had excused himself from the chatter to use the restroom. He had taken a moment to splash cool water on his face, and quiet the pounding in his chest. It was difficult as ever to be around so many people he loathed. He took a quick potion after drying off his face, and heading down the hallway back to the parlor.
 
On the way, he found himself face to face with Leona. She seemed distraught, which was natural. He wished he could take some of that sadness away from her. She was not meant to suffer much. His thoughts were entirely focused on Luther, and Luther’s suffering. While he did not care much about the effects his actions might have had on other people, he hated to see Leona lose some of the spark from her eyes. She was a beautiful, smart young girl and deserved better than a father who was a murderer. Perhaps this was a mercy to her, perhaps….
 
He grimaced lightly as she referred to him as Mr. Klein. He smiled at her lightly. “Christoph, please.” He offered. Mr. Klein sounded so formal. It sounded like his father, really, and while Christoph looked up to his father, he wasn’t ready for his girlfriend to make him feel like a dad.  He had not been looking for Luther at this point. He would have to deal with the man sooner or later, but at the moment he found he was right where he wanted to be. He reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I was looking for you, actually.” He lied. “Tell me, how are you doing?” He could tell she wasn’t doing very well.
 
As she extended her hand, he dropped the hand from her shoulder and took her hand. He gave it a small kiss. “Of course, I would have done anything in my power.” He offered, noticing the tears welling up. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more private. You look like you need a moment to yourself.” He offered, leading her towards the bedrooms.

“Christoph,” she replied slowly, allowing her mouth to savor every consonant of his name as she forced a small smile. No matter how upset she truly was, Leona knew that she needed to be pleasant, particularly to the man that was not only her fiancée but that had tried so diligently to save her brother. “Of course, my apologies,” she continued, sniffling slightly as she brought an embroidered handkerchief to the corner of her eyes, careful not to smudge the delicate eyeliner she had so painstakingly drawn onto her upper lids earlier in the day. Leona did not make it a habit to wear cosmetics, in fact, she often enjoyed the way in which her mother’s friends whispered about her youthful face, likening her to a child much younger than she truly was. Nevertheless, ever since her brother’s death, she felt responsible for demonstrating an air of maturity with the hopes that her father would notice and that she was dependable and worthy of his trust.

Not only was it her father that she longed to impress but also the man before her, the man who would eventually become her husband. Being in his presence was somewhat uncomfortable for Leona still. She enjoyed his company greatly and though she often wished otherwise, he had behaved with incredibly gentlemanly behavior in all of their outings, something that seemed to make her father extremely pleased with him. He was never cruel to her or insulted her and though he asked of her father often, his questions seemed well-intended. However, there was a sort of distance that she felt between them that she could not shake and as such felt as if she was always in error when the two of them were together.

Looking back at the door to her mother’s bedroom once again, her shoulders tensed slightly when he placed a hand on her, a part of her wanting to jump into his arms and cry into his shirt but another hoping that this encounter would stop feeling so awkward. “Is that so?” she wondered, for a moment considering if her absence had caused the other guests to wonder if something had happened to her mother. However, such thoughts were cut short as he continued, the way in which he looked at her causing her to relax. Sniffling once more as she felt tears gather in her eyes again. How silly she must have looked with tears in her eyes, a feeling that she was an utter child in his presence making her second guess herself for a moment.

“I’ve…been better,” she explained, laughing quietly as she realized how obvious her answer was. Taking a moment to gather herself she continued, “I only wish that I could grieve for our loss with my family and close friends, I’m not particularly fond of sharing these sorts of things with strangers but my mother is nothing if not insistent on social protocol and the like,” she continued, a blush spreading across her cheeks as he kissed her hand. Such a simple gesture and yet she knew that she would remember it for weeks to come, the warmth of his lips and the touch of his hand. Leona could not help but to feel embarrassed by the way her thoughts wandered on such a sad occasion. Nevertheless, her older brother once told her that the living must continue to do just that and for a moment, his words allowed her to feel a little less distraught.

“You did all you could, and for that I am most appreciative. I’m going to miss him dearly but—he, too, would have scoffed at all the dramatic gestures and my mother’s most unpleasant crying,” she added, hoping that she could lighten the tenseness between the two of them. “Only if it’s no imposition,” she continued, bravely taking his hand as he lead her towards one of the bedroom. She could feel herself tense again, wondering if there would be an even deeper interchange between them, physical or in conversation, that would be propelled by the death of her brother and the thought made her a little nervous. “Mine is just around the way,” she offered, “It also has a spectacular view of the garden, should you be inclined to spend a little time together,” she continued, hoping that her offer was not too forward. They were together after all.

Christoph smiled lightly at her as she let him take her hand, and he let her show him the way to her bedroom. “I’m sure a view of the garden is just what you need right now.” It wasn’t sarcasm. It was stated in a very comforting manner. He knew how much she appreciated plants. Being around them was probably preferable to being around people at this point, and he understood that. He did not so easily understand her desire to be around him. True, they were together. They would likely end up engaged within the next few months, which made Christoph more nervous than it really ought to. If Leona could handle this, why shouldn’t Christoph be able to? It wasn’t his first marriage, nor did it mean the same thing. It was an act, a game, a play. He just needed to make sure the show would go on, and that meant being a dutiful boyfriend to the mourning girl. As he closed the door behind them, he let go of her hands and moved over to the window to open it—showing off the garden.

“You don’t have to be so reserved around me.” He promised. “You can express yourself, and I won’t judge you.” That was mostly the truth, too. He had mentioned it before, but hurting Leona was not really a part of the plan. It was necessary, but not a goal. He wanted to minimize her discomfort, and feeling as though she couldn’t speak to anyone would only isolate her from him. He needed her trust and devotion. He needed her to believe the lie. He sat down on the corner of her bed, across from her, and put out a hand for her to hold. “Tell me the truth of how you’re feeling.” He said, “It’s natural to be confused now, too.” He added. “To not know how to move on. To not know what’s next. Losing someone is hard.” He was thinking about his wife and son, but realized quickly he would need a cover story.

“I had a younger sister.” He admitted. “When we were younger, she and I would play in the river by our home. My parents always told us it was dangerous, but we never listened to them. One day, she swam out too far. I tried to catch her, but by the time I got there it was too late, the current had taken her under, and she’d drowned. I hard to carry her body back to my parents.” He sounded surprisingly choked up for a blatant lie, but he needed to make it realistic. He had made a living off of living a lie—faking emotion. Faking beliefs. Faking friendships. This was his swan song, now. It needed to be the greatest performance of his life.

“I understand what you’re going through, is my point. Your brother’s death was so sudden, just like my sister’s. Sudden, and untimely. But you’ll move on, at some point it’ll dull to a soft ache.” He promised.

“It is,” she agreed almost immediately, “You’ve been listening,” she added, her heart skipping a beat as if he had revealed a deeper truth that no one could have ever guessed about her but him. It was quite obvious that Leona was a Herbologist by trade and one could assume that such choice in profession meant that plant life was towards the top of her favorite things, and it was. In fact, once one got Leona started on plant life it was at times impossible to shut her up, her green eyes glimmering in delight as she detailed the interesting aspects of Mandrakes or the intricacies of de-fanging Vampiric vegetation. However, Leona liked the way in which Christoph spoke to her and though it was an obvious statement, his words charmed her. Far gone was the idea that the feelings in the pit of her stomach were a confused flutter, Leona knew that even though they had been more or less setup by her father, she was swiftly and unceremoniously falling in love with him. And yet, she felt confused by the way he acted towards her and found it practically impossible to read him.

For all intents and purposes, Christoph was the perfect boyfriend and not yet had he ever been particularly clear about his feelings for her. Even as she watched him open the windows, the wind sweeping in and the scent of the flowers immediately entering the room, there was a sort of wall between them that she simply could not overcome. Anyone else would have made a move, her friends had told her as much so many times that she had practically convinced herself that she was the problem somehow. Maybe he'd been expecting someone prettier? smarter? older? She smiled softly, nodding as she heard him speak and wondering if it was appropriate for her thoughts to be so consumed with Christoph when they should have been on the death of her brother. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, is all,” she said reassuringly, “I don’t mean to be so—reserved, really, I suppose I’d prefer it if funerals were more private affairs and ended quickly, all of this brouhaha drives me absolutely mad,” she said, looking down at his hand as she took it without hesitation. “To be honest, I think I would have been driven mad had you not appeared,” she confessed, averting her gaze for only a moment as she said the words nervously.

The story of his sister was painful in a way that somehow hurt her heart a little more than the death of her own blood. Maybe it was the fact that it was one of the most personal accounts she had heard from him or maybe it was the fact that losing a younger sibling seemed more painful than losing an older one but she squeezed his hand reassuringly, her expression deeply saddened as she thought of his loss. “I’m so sorry, that sounds absolutely devastating,” she said, moving over to sit next to him. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must’ve been for you to share that with me, thank you,” she said, interlocking her hand in his as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Wiping away a stray tear she looked up at him and nodded.

“I just wish that I had more time, you know? He was the only person I could ever depend on for anything, the only person that believed I was capable of being something other than somebody’s trophy wife,” she said. “I know it’s rather forward but I really have no idea what I’d do without you Christoph, it’s like you’ve come into my life at the perfect moment,” she paused for a moment. “Do you believe in that sort of thing? People being meant to be or coming into your life at the right time?”

Christoph nodded as she spoke about wishing funerals were more private events. He had been the only person in attendance at his wife’s funeral. Technically, he had not had one. They had been cremated and kept in the package they came in. He always meant to sprinkle their ashes, or at least get them a nice urn—but the urn seemed too final, and he couldn’t bear to part with the ashes… so they sat in the package they came in, in a small corner of his bedroom where he tried not to look. Maybe when he died, all three of them could be scattered together. He might ask Donnie to do it for him. He’d go home, maybe, to Germany. Maybe Donnie could sprinkle them there, over his family’s land. Or they could be on the beach, Olivia always loved the outdoors. He was getting ahead of himself. It was not yet time to rest.

“I understand. The triviality of social customs here still puzzles me. It’s not nearly the same in Germany.” He admitted. He didn’t really know what the upper class did in Germany, but he doubted it was like this. Plus, how would she know, anyway? “Maybe you can just retire here for the rest of the afternoon. Let the rest of the family play host. I’ll even take a turn if you need me, not that I can promise to be very polite to the strangers.” He teased lightly. “You could do with a rest, a chance to decompress.” He gave her hand a squeeze, then let go to reach over and touch her shoulders. She seemed tense, tight. He gave her a little rub there, but left it at that. Small displays of intimacy made him a bit uncomfortable. Now wasn’t the time for any sort of anything but being there for her, listening to her, and talking to her. Maybe a hug or two would be appropriate, but not even a kiss would be acceptable at this point—not that they had kissed at all. A kiss to the hand or cheek did not count.

“It must be difficult, being a girl… not having anyone support your aspirations. My parents were always supportive of my career goals, and look at what you’ve accomplished yourself. You’re a healer. A shop owner. These are things you did yourself, no one gave that to you. You’re worth more than being someone’s trophy wife.” He insisted. “And I’ll vouch for that, even if your father will not. If we…” He hesitated. “If we do end up married, I won’t treat you like a trophy. You’ll be a partner.” He hoped this was comforting to her. As she began talking about fate and things like that, Christoph had to try not to freeze. It didn’t feel like fate. If it was, it was a poor kind of fate indeed.

“I don’t know, what do you think? Do you think it was fate that brought us together?” It had most certainly been Christoph’s expert planning, but he couldn’t just come out and say that.

“Germany sounds so…modern,” she offered, the idea that one was not held to social customs intriguing her. Would they move to Germany if they were to be married? She wondered for a moment, fantasizing about dallying about without the need to adhere to social protocol, the idea itself made a weight lift from her shoulders. “I suppose it has it’s merits, traditions are important to my family and I think it’s due to them that I am the way I am, the good and the bad,” she continued, nodding in agreement at his suggestion. “I’d like to, I’m hoping that in a couple of hours or so everyone will be gone and I can have a propel meal. Mum thinks it’s bad form to enjoy food while I’m mourning a loved one but I don’t see why it’s any of her business,” she added, feeling significantly more relaxed in his company than she did initially.

Maybe it was his manner or his voice or the very sweet way in which he spoke to her but her troubles seemingly disappeared in his company and though she was unsure if he felt that way about her. “You don’t have to be polite to anyone really, I was hoping you’d scare them off with your serious expression,” she teased in return, melting into his hands as he rubbed her shoulders. It was very well intended but even so, she felt her face redden slightly and had a difficult time slowing down her racing heart. In an alternative universe, Leona might have pushed him onto the bed and kissed him senseless but she was not that bold. To make matters worse, they had not yet even shared their first, real kiss. Sighing a little at the thought and hoping that he did not catch on to how desperate she was to be more intimate, she willed herself to relax. There was a time and a place, Leona did not want her desperation to get the best of her. The last time she allowed herself to be so bold was with her Portuguese tutor and not only did it embarrass her greatly but he rejected her. Today was much too depressing for rejections.

“Are you impressed with my accomplishments?” she said smiling in a way to let him know that she was joking and he was not expected to answer that. “No but it’s all circumstantial in their eyes, I really don’t know if I truly want my father’s attention, look at my brother, had death not taken him my father would have ruined his life,” she continued, frowning slightly at the thought. But such things did not matter now, she wanted to direct the conversation away from the terrible event and to them. “I like the sound of that, being a partner and being taken seriously. But for now, it’s of no use to think so far into the future,” she said turning towards him, her eyes unconsciously wandering down to his lips before she looked back up at him.

“I think it is fate, even if not romantically, I think the time we’ve spent together is significant and will teach me things that I did not know before and even if…you decide that you don’t like me in the end or that we aren’t a good match, I’d be grateful for our relationship,” she explained, hoping that her words alluded to her worries about their relationship. “That’s how I felt about the last man I had feelings for, at least.”

“Maybe I’ll take you out somewhere.” He suggested. “Out of the house, away from the sadness for a bit. I know a few nice places that you might enjoy.” He struggled with wanting to get out of there with her. The idea of enjoying a nice evening out, after all this crying was very alluring. Luther would be all but useless anyway, for now. He was half a bottle into the firewhisky by lunchtime, and probably wasn’t in much a state for anything now. He couldn’t even rub salt in the wound properly at this rate.

“What is your favorite meal?” he wondered. “You seem the type to eat lightly, lots of fresh vegetables and fruits. Perhaps it’s just that I know how much you love plants. For all I know, rich French faire could be more up your ally.” He teased lightly. “Whatever you’d prefer, I’ll make sure you have it tonight, even if it means a bit of travel.” He knew where to find portkeys all over Europe for a cheap price, and could apparate a fair distance, too. His own residence was still in London, and he wouldn’t dare take her there, but he often travelled over country lines for his work now. He had clients all over Europe, some with small ambitions and some with larger ones. He still wondered if he might be able to get his job back at the German ministry, after his stint in Azkaban in England. Perhaps if he explained…

He was impressed by her accomplishments, really, and knew she was joking but wanted to make sure she knew that he appreciated them. He shook his head. “Your accomplishments are not trivial, I assure you. I couldn’t have done what you were able to do. I’ve never been a healer. I’m more a blade, myself.” He admitted, and it was one of the truer things he had said to her. He listened to her next words with a cautious ear, and could hear some insecurity within them. He turned to her, serious.

“Do you worry that I don’t like you?” He asked, quite frankly. “You shouldn’t worry. I wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t exactly where I wanted to be.” He said, trying to assure her, though this, again, was one of the truer things he had said.

Leona sighed in contentment, the idea of escaping appealed to her immensely, particularly if it meant that she would leave the depression that was the current state of her household. “Father might not like you disappearing with his rebellious daughter,” she teased lightly, “He really does care for you, like the other son he never had but always wanted,” she elaborated. The way in which her father spoke so highly of Christoph might have made her a little jealous if he reveled in it. Nevertheless, polite as usual, the interactions she had seen between the two men made it clear that unless Christoph changed his mind, he would was already welcomed into the family with open arms.

“I’m an absolute pig,” she noted with a smirk, “But I suppose in proper company I’d be expected to eat like a little rabbit, which I do really. I enjoy caring for plants but eating them feels a little…sad,” she noted, not having given it much thought in the past. “But then again, you never know this might be my justification for all the dessert I enjoy eating,” she teased, running a hand through her hair as she pondered his question. “I want to eat something that you enjoy eating, I’m curious as to what sort of thing a man like you enjoys in private,” she added later realizing that the comment was a little more invasive than she intended. However, he had encouraged her to feel free to speak her mind in his presence and she intended to do just that. “Are you a meat and potatoes sort of man, I wonder, or maybe you’ll surprise me and confess that you’re addicted to sugary things like I am,” she considered, though the latter seemed unlikely. Either way, Leona was never the sort to judge anyone for what they chose to ate, and was even able to tolerate those who had bad table manners as long as they refrained from commenting on the refined way in which she ate. It was years of forced etiquette after all and at this age, it was impossible to outgrow.

“But surely your accomplishments are more interesting,” she reassured him, moving over to vanity table as she pinned her hair up, believing it to be more complementary to her childish face. “Healing is a skill anyone can learn, really, but dueling,” she looked over her shoulder at him, wondering if somehow he would see her as more of a woman when her hair was not concealing the nape of her neck, “I can’t imagine ever being able to do such thing, you’ll have to teach me how to fend for myself, would you do that?” she wondered, returning to sit next to him again. The thought of him teaching her something so dangerous alluring. Distantly, Leona wondered if the thought of him being her teacher was so appealing because deep down it revealed something about her personality. However just as quickly as it came, the thought was gone.

“I thought you were here because of the funeral,” she said quietly, his words causing her heart to flutter in her chest. It was not an I love you, but it was reassuring in its own right. “I like you too, Christoph,” she responded, “A lot actually but that is no news to you,” she added with a smile. Allowing there to be a small pause between them she continued. “If you give me a moment I can change and we can be on our way.”

“In my presence, you’re welcome to eat what you like.” He assured. He would not stop her from indulging herself, especially knowing she had so little time left. He wouldn’t even be put off if she grew more full-figured, though he doubted that would be an issue given her petite frame. Olivia, herself, had not been particularly slim if he remembered correctly, though curvy wasn’t quite a word he would use to describe her. In many ways, she was rather average and plain. Leona was, objectively, much prettier than Christoph’s former wife. “I suppose I am a meat and potatoes type of man.” He confessed, “…but I’ll make sure to order something fine for dessert. What do you prefer, vanilla or chocolate? Fruity? What’s your favorite?” He asked, interested in knowing her more than he wanted to admit.
 
He felt something rise in him that he had not felt in a long time as he watched her carefully tie up her hair, revealing her long neck. He sharply inhaled, but tried to hide it. He struggled to maintain his composure around her whenever she did something that hinted at suggestive. It had been too long since he’d been with a woman if even the sight of a bare neck left him hungry. Leona often did little things like this, things that made him see her more like a woman and less like a target, but it left him feeling confused in the pit of his stomach. Any other man could happily indulge himself in her, but not him. He was accounted for. Even if she was dead and he didn’t quite remember the details of her face. Even if she had secrets she kept from him that haunted him. She owned him, eternal.
 
He smiled at her lightly. “Of course I could teach you a few things.” He offered. He had been doing the same with Rosaline Bane, a young sleeper Death Eater whom he had been assigned to mentor. Leona would probably be a more interesting student, as he had not yet figured Rosaline out completely. He hated Death Eaters on a good day, and she was probably just like all the rest. He did not know her well enough to tell. “Perhaps this weekend, we could practice a little bit. I’m sure you’re at least somewhat familiar with shield charms and disarming spells, yes? Dueling is mostly that. Let the other person do most of the work.” He teased. “I’ll even show you some physical defense, and, if you really want to dance, swordfighting.”
 
He wet his lips unconsciously, watching her. “I’ll step out so you can change.” He offered. “Do you think your mother and father will give you leave? I think everything is winding down outside. I’ll go usher people out in the meantime.”

“You might regret spoiling me so much, I can become a proper brat when I get what I want all the time,” she teased lightly. Though Leona had been on plenty dates before, there was something about Christoph’s countenance that made her feel as though she was well within her rights to act her age. Her friends chalked it up to the benefits of dating an older man however Leona did not believe it had anything to do with age as it did with experience. For a moment she considered how many other women he might have dated in the past and such thoughts made her jealous, “Unless of course, you do this with all of your girls,” she added lightly, her tone open to interpretation. Christoph had never given her reason for suspicion but it was difficult to believe that someone so absolutely splendid was not on the minds of just about every other girl in Britain.

“Definitely chocolate, particularly the caramel type, but then again vanilla has its merits when accompanied by whipped cream and fruit,” she said, weighing every option as she considered what her favorite type of dessert was. “Definitely butter, and toffee,” she said bringing her hands together in delight as she could almost savor the dessert just thinking about it. “I’m only partial to lemony things as lemon has no place in dessert, it’s sacrilegious,” she added a little more seriously for effect.

“I’d love to, and don’t go easy on me, I’m rather skilled with my disarming spells,” she threatened lightly, the idea of being able to see him in his element appealing. Her father had spoken at length about his great accomplishments in dueling and though she would never admit to it aloud, the idea of him dueling someone before her was oddly exciting. Not if he were to get hurt of course but the way she thought so highly of him one would think that it was impossible for him to do no wrong.

“You don’t have to…” leave the room she wanted to express but opted for, “…worry about that, I’m sure mother will be asleep for a while and father’s probably too drunk to really put up a fight. I’ll go inform my aunt, one of the nicer ones,” she said with a smile as she walked over to her closet, considering what she could wear that would show off a little but not be considered too forward. Leona might have been a virgin but she was certainly not completely clueless. She had longed for a sign of his interest in her and had finally gotten one verbally, she could not help but wonder how long it would be before he showed his appreciation physically. Perhaps such a grim occasion was not the sort of place for those thoughts but Leona did not want to waste opportunity thinking of how she could bring her brother back. He had been and would always be close to her heart, regardless of what awaited her that night.

Christoph doubted very much that he could ever regret spoiling her, but he kept his mouth shut in that regard. He was getting too attached, really, and it was dangerous. Could he be blamed, though? She was such a nice girl, so kind, intelligent, beautiful. He felt bad for wanting her, but he also felt bad for what he had planned. As she mentioned his ‘other girls’ he chuckled. “I can assure you, it’s been years since I’ve been with anyone else.” He admitted. Why not tell the truth? He wondered if that was suspicious, but then again—everyone knew he had spent two years in Azkaban. There wasn’t exactly many opportunities to meet women there, and men were simply not his taste.

As she spoke about her favorite desserts, he made little plans. He could think of a few places that threw little dessert parties, complete with fireworks, and thought that, perhaps, she would enjoy going somewhere like that. She could fill up on as many sweets as she liked. He opened his mouth to tell her so. But soon the conversation had changed again, and Christoph was eager to keep up. He loved talking about his dueling. It had truly been the one thing that had made him feel better since losing Olivia.

“I’m certain you’ll have me out.” He teased. “A well-done disarming spell and a shield charm is the very basis of a good duel, in my opinion. Unless, of course, weapons are involved. I like those, too. Have you ever tried sword fighting?” He asked, then remembered that she was about to get changed. “Actually, sorry. I’m going on and on. Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll meet you by the door whenever you’re ready. I’ll go try to usher the remaining houseguests out in the meantime.” He grinned.

He left her a lingering look, as he walked to the door. This girl would be the death of him, truly. He could already tell he was getting in too deep.

What did been with anyone else mean exactly? The young witch’s mind immediately went to the most obvious answer, her eyes naturally trailing down his body in curiosity until she forced herself to look away. The blush that appeared across the apples of her cheeks a reminder that she did indeed want him in that way but did not want to force such actions upon him should he want to wait. Leona had done her research, albeit poorly, into his life, asking friends discreetly about any sort of previous record he might have had with another woman. She assumed that like most pureblood socialites, he would have appeared in the gossip section of the papers in one form or another but her inquiries ended in more questions than actual answers. Maybe, as her mother had insinuated once before, she had been lucky enough to not only secure a partner but one that was as good-looking and well established as the man before her.

Then if he had not been with anyone else in some time, why did he hesitate to be with her? In her head, her own boldness did not surprise her but it was not a statement she would ever feel comfortable telling the man in person. Leona knew that her lack of experience could be something undesirable, but it was that very quality that also made her extremely passionate, her mind often wandering at night as she imagined what their wedding night might be like or how he might respond should she throw herself at him like she had been wanting to do for some time. However, Leona refrained, unwilling to push him for the fear of rejection. “You could have fooled me,” she settled on words that she hope would simply roll off of him but her tone was obviously skeptical.

“Never, my father is a tad conservative about such things when it comes to me but my brother he…” he frowned a little, remembering just exactly why they were there and how she was sneaking off to spend time with Christoph when she should have been mourning the death of her brother. However, in their short time together he had managed to completely distract her, a sense of ease overcoming her in his presence. This is what he would have wished for, she decided, and with that, attempted to block out the image of her brother’s smiling face from her mind. “But I look forward to learning from you, if you’ll take me on as a student of course,” she continued, smiling as brightly as her sudden shift in mood allowed.

“If you insist,” she continued, again open for interpretation as she began playing with the buttons on her black dress, her eyes lingering on him, watching him for a sign, anything that would show her just how much he truly desired her or if he truly did not desire her at all. “I won’t be long, promise,” she continued, her eyes following him as he left the room and her shoulders slumped in slight disappointment. All in due time, she reminded herself in an effort to find some comfort to the night’s events. It would have to do for now.