[dorfold ||cheshire] faux ami || theodore

While Christmas was a time of celebrating family and friends to most people, in the Grosvenor household, it was a time of honoring tradition. As such, the women of the household had spent a considerable amount of time in preparation for the year’s party, the right to sponsor falling on the Grosvenors once again, much to the chagrin of the males in the family who were not particularly excited about having to socialize in their territory. Though her aunt chalked it up to having the space to welcome more guests, Genevieve was convinced that her family’s riches and influence drew families in like a moth to candlelight. The staff was not elated with this choice as it ended in them polishing the silver a few more times until it was to the mistress’ liking and the decorations were awfully difficult to put up without wand magic, as the mistress insisted.

Genevieve had several requests of her own, as it was her tradition, she insisted in engaging all of the heirs in a game of Secret Santa, making it a habit of putting people together whom she knew absolutely hated each other to see what sort of terribly expensive gifts they would purchase to pretend otherwise. The young heiress had always claimed that it was a matter of luck but her personal maid knew of her antics well, watching silently as she poured the jar filled with slips of parchment onto her bed and played matchmaker to pass the time.

“Shall I choose Wolfie or would my antics seem too obvious?” she wondered out loud, partially seeking an opinion from her handmaid but at the same time, not wishing to hear what the woman had to say about all of this. The younger witch was unfazed by the opinions of others, it was practically her party and she would not allow herself to miss out on a little bit of fun because it was not considered “proper”.

“Or shall I do Teddy again?” she continued, eyeing the slip of parchment with his name, smiling to herself as she brought a finger to her lips in consideration. The nickname was a guilty pleasure of hers, something that had gotten a rise out of him in the past. But your name’s so stuffy, she would bemoan, but would begrudgingly call him by his proper name for the rest of the night. Genevieve was terrible but she wasn’t a complete troll, and what’s more, though she’d never tell him in person, Theodore was a splendid name; every syllable worthy of being enunciated. “Effie, let’s say you’ve chosen and send him an owl telling him whose he to shop for immediately,” she continued effortlessly, ignoring the expression on the woman’s face of disagreement. At this point, it had become a sort of tradition for the two of them that she doubted he believed they somehow just managed to always get each other through sheer luck. But out of all of her guests, she had a sort of soft spot for the older man and could describe their relationship as a sort of amalgam of hate and commiseration, two things that often brought out the best, or worst, in her.

But whether he was suspicious or not was inconsequential as it would seem improper not to bring a gift, she decided and spent much of the rest of the afternoon choosing a dress. A very adamantly Slytherin household, her aunt had insisted that she trade a long velvet gown in red for something in green, but unwilling to follow her family’s outdated ways, opted for a chiffon gown in a soft nude instead, taking pleasure in the anger evident in her aunt’s eyes when she finally noticed her across the room. It's sweet and very cute, much like me, she had decided, a statement that had caused her maid to almost roll her eyes in her direction. Almost. But, the heiress refused to look like anyone else, Genevieve was intent on being her own person and the center of the room. Spotting @Theodore Nott as he entered from the gardens, she scooped up two glasses of champagne from one of the many waiters wandering about the grand room and quickly made her way over to him, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“Theodore!” she called out as she reached him, offering him a glass. “It’s been a rather long time since we’ve last met, hasn’t it, love? You ought to come spend time with me more often, a girl gets lonely in these parts, especially if she hasn’t any proper company to keep her busy,” she said a little more loudly than necessary, as if she suspected that listening ears would eavesdrop on their conversation for proof of the status of their friendship. Holding on to one of his arms, she leaned in closer to him. “I suspect you’ve brought your Secret Santa a lovely gift this year?” she teased, knowing very well whom his gift was to be for, “Possibly a diamond the size of an ostrich egg?” she continued but just as she has begun that conversation, she moved on to the next. It would be no good if others assumed her to be impolite and inhospitable. “But that can wait, I hear you’re at St. Mungo’s, isn’t that place a bit…below your status, darling?”

How delightful.

This was Theodore's first thought as he stood in hall, standing still and taking everything in as a servant shrugged the cloak off his shoulders and place that, along with his gift, in the coat room. That is, if the Grosvenors' even had a coat room. It has been quite a while since he last paid a social call to the enchanting young heiress, as she so insisted on being addressed.

Of course, if Theodore was not enjoying being surrounded by the so-called upper crust of society, he only had himself to blame. He was the one who declined an invitation to a department mixer so he could attend Genevieve's little soiree. He was a little puzzled at his choice for doing so. While the two of them had been childhood playmates, out of necessity, not choice, as the remaining purebloods clung to each other in a desperate attempt to stay relevant, they had not grown up to be the best of friends. In fact, they both took some cruel, twisted pleasure in maintaining a presence in each others' lives for absolutely the wrong reasons. At twenty-three Theodore recognises that this could not be healthy, but nevertheless, it gave him something to do when books do not do the trick.

It is this same sick illusion of affinity that put him in formal dress robes tonight. While still maintaining a dark colour scheme, the style and embroidery was a tad too showy for his liking. His two house elves, however, thought it of utmost importance that he show up in 'polite society' dressed in finery, and remind everyone that the house of Nott was still standing strong. While he doubted this intimate gathering, as Genevieve wrote so favourably on her invitation card, would be more than twenty or so of the more familiar faces, he did not like telling the house elves 'no' after they went through so much trouble.

Father always did say he was too soft on the help.

"Cheers," Theodore nodded at her, accepting the champagne and downing almost the entirety of it in a single gulp. The familiar tang to the bubbly liquid put a slightly incredulous expression on his face. Whatever the newspapers had to say about the family, it seemed that on the surface at least, the Grosvenors' had not fallen on harder times. They certainly were not cutting corners where they could be cut. And unless he needed new glasses, he was fairly sure the number of waiters far outnumbered the guests in attendance.

He gave her a perfunctory peck on the cheek as she leaned in close, offering her a thin smile but no promise. "Of course. When have I ever disappointed as Secret Santa? What is it, four years running now with the perfect gift?" Theodore was not yet so stupid to let her play him like one of her toys. He could only hope that his gift to her this year would make her turn a lovely shade of puce he last saw on the Christmas at the turn of the century. It truly was the most wonderful time of the year then. Until then, he would try his best to be the perfect guest, as long as she held her tongue and not say anything too provoking.

Although that quickly proved to be entirely impossible for the younger witch.   

"Below my status?" Theodore frowned a little, but an amused, if not slightly patronising smirk played on his lips. "Well, it seems that we must alert the Minister. Miss Grosvenor's blood is apparently too rich for hospitals now! Should I send you off to a jeweller's instead next time you complain of a cold, hmm, or would a mere goldsmith suffice?" There was an edge to his tone as he brought up the trades of his family. "I don't see how a career is below my status, dear Genevieve, or is having a useful occupation of time too much for you to fathom?"


i would say sorry he's an ass but apparently he's not sorry at all >>

“I say the fates would like for us to end up together, considering how many times you’ve received my name, one would think that you’ve been a naughty boy and charmed the parchment, or better yet, bribed my maid perhaps?” she continued, giggling at the thought in an ostentatious manner, though it was apparent that the two of them new the likely culprit. Either way, Genevieve enjoyed pretending. Theodore was one of the very few men she did not feel the need to impress with an image of politeness or public decorum.

The young witch spoke like a proper young lady, but there was no way that Theodore was ignorant of the churlish little deviant she could be underneath the airs of distinction she always insisted on wearing. “But then again, tonight might be completely different,” she added with a shrug for effect, her eyes widened at the possibility but understood there was no other answer. As he had stated before, it had been their tradition for several years now, and there was nothing that Genevieve enjoyed more than tradition.

Genevieve took a delicate sip from her glass of champagne, pleased that her aunt had decided on her favorite instead of the dreadful liquid her cousin Augustus had chosen. The poor boy pretended to have class, but it was evident in his choice of champagne he understood very little about refined taste. Casting a glance around the room, she thought about what sorts of things the others would bring for each other. It seemed as if only Theodore and Genevieve truly understood the nature of the game, gifting the most outrageous something and receiving their terrible object with a smile and social grace.

Genevieve had truly outdone herself this year, had even gone as far as to put some research into her present which was in a more profound sense a portrait of the state of things, she decided. In reality, she sought the best way to make Theodore as angry as humanly possible. A part of her longed to see a side of him that he was not so readily willing to show her. She wanted to have a good laugh at a usually otherwise extraordinarily dull and uneventful party.

The young witch observed him in interest, the expression on her face, the heiress, had always thrived on the schadenfreude, and Theodore’s work at St. Mungo’s was something she believed to be incredibly unfortunate. The thought of having a proper job was terrible enough; the thought of working for the betterment of a society she despised was only worse. “Don’t be silly, it has nothing to do with wealth, but at those places, you always run into the unsavory sort, I’m sure most of your patients are not even worth your time nor can they afford it so why bother? But to be quite honest, you are right, the thought of getting jewelry every time I fall ill makes me feel better already,” she said, her expression comical as she took another sip from her champagne.

“I wish I had time for an occupation, but my research and good intentions keep me busy with charitable causes,” she continued. The Grosvenor family had always been public-spirited due to necessity more than willingness; they had too much money and too many questionable members in their family after all. And though Genevieve longed to be a magizoologists, her fear of failure was what kept her from pursuing it as an occupation. 

“You’d be better off doing something private,” she added as an afterthought, her eyes lighting up with a sudden idea, “oh Teddy,” she said with excitement, the name slipping from her lips thoughtlessly. “You ought to be my private Healer, I could call you when I’ve got a cold and whatnot, I think you’d make a lovely nurse, take good care of me and the like,” she teased, the mischievous grin on her face making it evident that she was eager for a reaction. “But apart from your do-goodery, what’s been keeping you away from your favorite person?” she asked, referring to herself, “or have you a lover you’ve been sneaking around with?” she asked dramatically as if it truly affected her. If anything, the heiress, like any other girl her age she figured, was very nosy.