[Declan O'Dwyer]

The senior O'Dwyers had relocated to their summer estate in Wicklow Mountains for the rest of the season. It was nice to get away from the hustle and bustle of Dublin City for a couple of weeks and enjoy a bit of peace and quiet in the country. Dromore Lodge had long since become the favourite home of family patriarch Pádraig. Its isolated location meant he could fully focus on designing his next collection of diamond jewellery with as few disruptions as possible.

Situated near the top of Lugnaquilla, Dromore Lodge was an ornate Gothic Revival villa, so rich in its decorations it seemed oddly out of place against the untouched landscape surrounding it. It was perfectly whimsical with its towers, battlements and turrets, all painted a glistening white. The brightness contrasted with the colourful, arched, stained glass windows, clearly inspired by medieval cathedrals. All in all, it was an unlikely place in an unexpected location and yet perfectly consistent with everything O'Dwyer.

Pádraig's desire for solitude was interrupted when Lúnasa rolled around. Though this year's festivities were meant to be a small family affair, the entire staff of Dromore was in a bit of a flurry to get ready in time for afternoon tea. His grandson Declan had announced that he would be bringing a guest from England. It was an intriguing turn of events to be sure.

Pádraig's eldest son had arrived earlier in the day together with and his wife and their youngest, but they had since gone out for a walk through the countryside as was tradition. They'd taken a few empty baskets with them to gather bilberries on the way. One could never have enough bilberries during a Lúnasa celebration. Some of the house elf children had gone along with them, singing cheerfully as they made their way off the property.

For a moment one might have gotten the impression that all was well and everyone in the family got on well. Unfortunately, things were more complicated than that. Perhaps, that explained why everybody was a little on edge. Pádraig had every confidence though that his wife Muireann would handle it. She was a wonderful hostess. Speaking of, where had she gotten too? The cake was finally cool.

Pádraig produced his wand to float the giant bilberry cake through the kitchen, carefully moving it from one of the cooling racks onto a wooden worktop so it could be decorated.

"Declan," he called for his grandson, "I could use a hand with his, I don't know where your grandmother has gotten to."

The younger O'Dwyer came over from the library, letting out a low whistle. "You do know that Farren is only one person," he said doubtfully. "Who is going to eat all that cake? Have you invited the local quidditch team?"

Pádraig shook his head. "Well, you did say she was English. I wanted it to be grand."

"Grand is not the same as giant," Declan countered. They both laughed.

"Think we can manage the icing on our own?" Pádraig asked.

"I think so," Declan said confidently. "I'm a potions master. How hard can it be to follow the recipe?"

"You need to tie that lion's mane of yours back." Pádraig wasn't overly fond of his grandson's long dark hair. "It's bad enough that you won't cut it, but I certainly don't want to eat it. You do know you look like one of those Malfoys? Did that girl put you up that?"

Declan couldn't help a laugh. "No, grandfather, I'm afraid you can't blame Farren for that. I just felt like growing it out." He did however tie it back with a ribbon and started to measure out the icing sugar with the precision of a master potioneer, while idly wondering where Farren was. He'd given her the address and told her to use the floo network. Surely, she'd be here any minute.

Meanwhile, Declan's grandmother Muireann finally descended down the stairs into the hall, having gotten ready for the celebration. She looked glamorous in her elegant, emerald green designer gown. As was befitting for the matriarch of a jewellery dynasty she was dripping in diamonds, while her hair gathered up in an elegant knot.

"Sticking her head into the kitchen she looked at the men turning cake decoration into an advanced arithmancy project. "I don't think you two have enough bilberries to finish it," she interrupted the men.

"You look breathtaking, darling" Pádraig said softly.

"We'll figure something out," Declan reassured.

He needn't have bothered for a moment later two of the house elf children stormed the kitchen carrying in several baskets of bilberries. From the looks of it, they had to have rolled in the baskets. Their fingers were stained and their hands and arms and little cloths smeared in deep purple juice.

"Oh, by the druidess Cliodna!" Muireann exclaimed. "Look at you two! Now what would your mother say if she saw this? She'd probably iron her hands for letting you two run wild like this. We better clean up this mess right away before she finds out." She gave the little elf girls a conspiring wink.

The Muireann pulled out a wooden pale from underneath one of the counters and used her wand to fill it with warm water and soap. Pádraig couldn't help a snigger.

"What's funny about this," Muireann admonished. "We want the elves to be presentable when Farren gets here. Imagine what her first impression of us would have to be!" She lifted the first of giggling elf girls into the tub, then the other. Her robe and jewels were long forgotten as she immersed her arms in the sudsy water, cleaning up the little ones.

Declan meanwhile took the bilberry baskets and washed a few to add to the cake as decoration.

"Um," Pádraig started, shifting uncomfortably. He'd just heard the flame in the fireplace roar up. That probably meant their guest had arrived.

[Farren Abercrombie]

Farren had carefully selected her outfit for her trip to Wicklow. Declan had made rather clear that his family were all together different from her own. It seemed none of the pomp and circumstance of the Abercrombies would apply. Though, to be fair she'd blow up all of that by announcing him near bed time in a fury. Under normal circumstances though, there would have been pomp. Her maid Amelia had debated her at length about the occasion, refusing to believe a family of such standing would stand for a 'casual' introduction for their daughter in law, however Farren had been adamant they tone things down.


After a great deal of consternation they had come up with a look that satisfied Farren and placated her extremely traditional maid. Initially Declan had warned her that things in Wicklow were quite informal and that there might be a fair bit of walking. Seeing as it was summer she'd selected a lilac silk gown with a long airy skirt and sheer sleeves that provided the necessary modesty and style for the occasion while still being comfortable and lightweight enough to manage a long walk in. The hem had been weather and mud proofed magically already, so no walk could damage the gown. Under it she paired a pair of grey leather boots with a pointed toe, they were elevated enough that way to be stylish but their thicker, low heel made them closer to a paddock boot than anything and quite practical for a walk. They kept her hair simple in idea, pulling it into a voluminous bun that looked perfectly imperfect. Her make up was much the same, barely there, just enough pink on her cheeks to enhance her natural complexion. A plum tint to her lips, a dab of neutral brow shadow along her eye lid and a touch of mascara. It yielded the kind of perfectly natural look witches spent hundreds of sickles and hours of time to perfect. She'd selected a singlediamond hair combto slide into the base of her bun, off center, resting at the 10 o'clock of her bun to make it less formal. She'd taken off her Rosier wedding and engagement rings and left her fingers bare. For jewelry she selected a pair of diamond halo studs, simple but elegant and just large enough to really catch the light near her face.


She knew she looked perfect. She knew Declan would think she looked perfect. That was all that should matter. He'd managed to win her father over with much less preparation but women were always judged so harshly on the smallest of things. The nerves were not so easy to dismiss. Although she'd been directed by Declan that this was an informal affair she felt it was improper to show up empty handed. So the night before she'd sent a very specific owl to Dalemain to the attention of the grounds keeper. There were to be specific flowers picked from the garden and the fields that morning and delivered to her in London. While she was no gardener she was quite artistic at flower arranging, a skill people like her Grandmother expected young ladies to have. Before dressing she'd sat at the kitchen of her Belgravia townhome and painstakingly arranged each wildflower, each sprig of greenery, each violet and each rose into two gorgeous bouquets and secured both with long, beautiful jade silk ribbons. One for his mother and one for his grandmother whom he'd suggested would very possibly make an appearance. It couldn't hurt to be prepared.


Standing by the fireplace in the main parlor of her townhouse her maid fussed over her skirt and a wisp of stray hair. At her feet the dogs sat at attention, moving every time she did, easily picking up on her nerves. The clock on the mantle was clicking the seconds away to her planned arrival time at Wicklow. Sighing heavily she hoisted the two large bouquets into the crook of her arm. Everything else she'd need for the day was neatly contained in the small silk wrist-let dangling from her wrist, an undetectable extension charm had allowed her to stow away two changes of clothes, one for the evening and one for tomorrow, should she find herself going home with Declan instead of back to Belgravia. Perhaps it was presumptive but if he asked, she wasn't going to say no. Not now. Unless, perhaps the day went very poorly. Her wand, as always, concealed in an invisible pocket along the seam of her gown, the silver filagree handle reassuringly weighing against her hip.

The minute hand of the ancient clock on the mantle lurched forward, it's hour chime beginning. "Very well then. Wish me luck," Farren said to her maid with a heavy sigh. Stepping forward to the hearth she waited as her maid fished her hand into an urn on the mantle and threw the floo powder into the hearth. The green flames leapt up and Farren carefully stepped into them, insuring not a single hair would be out of place she was so careful. "Dromore Lodge," she said clearly and in an instant the green flames licked away the familiar scene of her parlor and deposited her in a new place.

She waited for the flames to disappear, it was a common mistake to leap to quickly with floo, resulting in being positively disheveled. Carefully she stepped out of the hearth she'd arrived in. Holding her English flowers carefully in her arms she swallowed the lump in her throat. Not daring to go but just over the hearth stone into the room she waited. Praying it would be Declan who came into the room to greet her.

[Declan O'Dwyer]

It was Pádraig who was the first to welcome and greet their guest. Declan was still trying to make the cake presentable while his grandmother was cleaning up the second elf girl in a hurry. There was a sense of urgency now to get everything done, but Pádraig seemed unperturbed. He was old enough not to care what people thought of him or his family. He would just be himself and that would have to be enough.

He stepped into the parlour and was momentarily arrested by the sight before him. Declan had said that Farren was a beauty, but he had taken his grandson to mean this in a more metaphorical sense than a physical one. Declan was quite sensitive and cerebral, generally more concerned with imaginary worlds than the real one around him. The witch before him though was a proper English lady, brushed, coiffed and painted even in what Pádraig surmised was an attempt to look natural. Curious. She wasn't at all what he might have imagined for his grandson and he couldn't help but wonder how this match had come about. Even at a glance she didn't seem like the kind of girl what would normally cross Declan's path.

"Welcome to Dromore. It's wonderful to meet you, Farren. I'm Pádraig." He held out his hand only to realise that carrying those bouquets meant she didn't have a free hand to shake his with. He chuckled softly. "Let me help you with those flowers," he offered kindly. "We're still settings things up in the kitchen. But I suppose we could set these up in the drawing room, or perhaps out on the patio so that we may all enjoy them this afternoon." He paused for a moment, then switched language to call on a member of house staff.

"No need, no need," Muireann chimed in from the hallway. "Let them focus on the other preparations, dear. We're running a little behind." Stepping into the doorframe Muireann smiled and gave Farren a look over. Her grandson hadn't been kidding when he'd described her as absolutely stunning. The little elf girl on her arm grinned and waved. Wrapped up in a fluffy white towel she was snug as a bug in a rug. "I'm Muireann, by the way, and this is our youngest resident here at Dromore, Ciara." She set the little elf girl down in front of her and Ciara was quick to blush and scurry off after bowing and uttering a rushed 'milady'.

It was only now that Muireann realised the state she was in. The sleeves of her gown were soaked and part of her elegant up do had come undone. She straightened herself out and cast a quick wandless charm to fix her appearance. "Well, I hope you've come hungry and thirsty Farren as we're celebrating today. Can I offer you some champagne? I have a perfect 1841 Veuve Cliquot preserved under a charm, or perhaps a 1959 Aubert Babineaux would be preferable as it's a little lighter?" She gave a wide smile, excited about this opportunity to open a bottle with somebody who might appreciate it more than her family.

"And my look at those gorgeous arrangements, Pádraig. How thoughtful." She stepped closer to her husband to breathe in the scent. "Wild grown roses," she sighed in delight. "Centifolias I think. Farren you are a treasure for bringing us those. They're wonderful."

"So, let me show you round," Muireann said, "we only spend a few weeks here at Dromore each year, but it's my husband's favourite. You'll have to visit again some time to see my favourite as well, but for today we shall make do. Drawing room, library, atelier, guest bathroom, kitchen." She opened the door to each room for Farren to take a look. "Please make yourself comfortable and if you need anything just help yourself or let us know. Were all very easy here."

Pádraig trailed behind the women a bit like a lost puppy. "So is this your first Lúnasa celebration?"  he asked curiously. "Did Declan tell you all about the significance?"

A loud laugh erupted from the kitchen. "The significance of what?" Declan interjected. "She can sit around, eat cake and listen to your crazy stories without special special preparation." He stuck his head through the door to see his grandparents and Farren advance towards the one of the drawing rooms. "I'll be right there, Farren. Just gotta finish this one thing for grandpa."

Meanwhile Muireann led them outside onto the Patio to settle down. "We're really glad you could make it. Declan has told us a lot about you. Is it true you played with a conservatory? That must have been very exciting. I'm afraid out my children only my youngest has any musical talent." She gave Farren a conspiring wink. "Don't tell Declan's father I said that."

[Farren Abercrombie]

Farren was alarmed when an older man, whom could only be Declan's grandfather, came to greet her. How odd it was to have the patriarch of the family answer his own door like this. However, Farren would not let this shake her manners. He greeted her, informally with her first name which was also odd and introduced himself with his first name as well. Farren gave a shallow curtsey, "A pleasure to meet you Sir," she said politely. As he noticed the bouquets she nodded, "They are for Mrs. O'Dwyer and Mrs. O'Dwyer, I was uncertain which ladies would be present today so I hope I've accounted for the correct number of Mrs. O'Dwyers." Still setting up? While she was unsure what exactly was being set up she found it most odd that a household of this means did not have these things solely handled by their staff and preparations ready and waiting well ahead of their planned agenda.


They were soon joined by whom she could only assume was his grandmother. In her arms was a small house elf wrapped in a towel. Farren could not help but stare, forcing herself to remain expressionless in her shock. Merlin's beard, Declan had implied they were all rather casual but she'd assumed he meant in the sense that they'd done away with dinner jackets and took their meals buffet style instead of being served each course. It never occurred to her that a wizard should bathe an elf or in any way be associated with their care and keeping apart from providing adequate resources and home for them. There seemed to be something unnatural about it which made her uncomfortable but she could harldy let this opinion known as this seemed entirely acceptable here. Part of her was now glad that her father seemed certain her grandfather wouldn't bother with hauling himself to Ireland to aquaint himself with the O'Dwyers, he would have such secondhand embarrassment from the scene she now saw there was no doubt in her mind that he would return to Dalemain confirming that his assumptions about the Irish were in fact so accurate as to be an understatement of reality.


As custom dictated she offered another shallow curtsy for Muireann, "Pleased to meet you Ma'am," she offered. The elf was ignored entirely, Farren could not fathom how one was to address an underage elf of no relation to themselves. No one in her years of etiquette training had prepared her for such a scenario and she supposed that in these types of scenarios silence and polite ignorance was the best course of action.


Mrs. O'Dwyer tidied herself with a wave of her hand, Farren's gaze flickered to the floor in front of her as she did, finding it rather remarkable that she would do this in front of a guest instead of absenting herself to a private place. Smiling politely Farren looked back to her hostess when she mentioned champagne, "I'd be pleased to take either, whichever you deem preferable for the day, my Grandmother is French so I'm well acquainted with the profile of both makers."  Clearly the Veuve Cliquot was a preferable bottle but Farren was not so opinionated on these things and did not want to seem too eager to have her hostess open something so rare.


"I'm very glad you find them pleasing," smiling she was in fact very glad they liked the flowers as she'd been unsure what they'd think was proper, "These flowers were delivered to me in London early this morning from my family estate in Cumbria so that I could arrange for her Ladyship a small piece of my own home, a place that shall forever have my heart, and whose gardens and fields were quite important to me in my formative years."


Following the hostesses lead she proceeded onto the house tour, which again, she found most alarming. Guests arriving at Dalemain were likely to see the foyer, the halls, and a sitting room and dining room at most. It was far too large to bother showing everyone around and more over seemed odd to do as if their family home were some kind of tourist attraction like many of the great muggle estates had become. However odd she found all this she would not show her discomfort. She had endured far worse after all and kept her politeness, though she was mindful that being so polite would likely appear uptight and arrogant to people so utterly casual as this. So she nodded and smiled through the brief tour, making the occasional small comment to compliment something in the space. Farren was quite sure she would never 'help herself' to anything nor make herself at home here, at least not so soon, but she thanked her hostess nonetheless as manners dictated.



It surprised her further when Mrs. O'Dwyer mentioned Lúnasa, whatever that was, and asked if she'd been educated about it. For a moment she wished Declan was here, not to save her from his relations, but so she could shoot him a scolding look as he'd failed to mention anything at all about this nor that today was an event of any kind. "I'm afraid I was not made aware Ma'am," she said sweetly as to indicate though she had never heard of such a thing she was willing to learn.


Declan's laugh interrupted them though as he declared from somewhere in the kitchen that there seemed to be no real significance or consequence to the day at all. Which she was glad for but rather annoyed he'd failed to mention this at all seeing as he was very aware she knew nothing and cared nothing much for Irish culture. Here she was thrust into it with some made up holiday and a wealthy witches carrying house elves around in towels. If this was how it were in Ireland he'd certainly failed to be as clear as he ought have been. Of course she was not annoyed in a way that was serious, more in that, she viewed these meetings of the family as events where they were playing on the same side. How was their side to win with a total blow out if one of a pair weren't fully abreast of the style of game being played? He'd left her feeling off sides and while she was sure she could manage it, some warning would have been helpful.


With his promise that he would soon join them she found herself being ferried out to some kind of garden where it appeared they might make their celebration she'd just been informed of. Naturally she was curious what exactly Declan had said about her. Seeing as she'd made no mention of Declan to her parents prior to her showing up at the house and declare she would marry him Declan was left with no doubt as to what opinion her family had of him. Unfavorable. At least though he had an idea of where he starting his game, the under dog, accepted as a player by force of his partner.


"Yes, yes, in Vienna," Farren confirmed in regards to her music career, "I was to The European Magical Conservatory straight from Hogwarts. I stayed there some 3 years for education before being placed as a chair in the oldest and grandest magical orchestra in Europe - the one associated with the conservatory. I toured with them across Europe and played in Vienna for a season after I was appointed a chair at the conclusion of my formal education within the conservatory. After which I returned to England and have not had the pleasure to play with them again since but perhaps some day I can hope to return in some capacity. I did on occasion fill in a chair of the strings section in London since then but have been unable to commit to a full season with anyone unfortunately."


She was all very polite and sweet, as she'd been trained to be, even though she found everything about today quite odd and entirely out of sorts with her expectations. If she'd gone about bringing Declan home properly there'd be none of this casual pleasantry. He'd have been received for either tea or a meal. Conversation would have been conducted quite formally, with the exception of her mother, who only pulled out her manners for people she deemed worthy. If he was lucky he'd be invited to the family room for a night cap and some kind of casual leisure such as chess or cards. Then he'd be escorted out by a servant and sent on his merry way. Yet here she was, having been shown to the toilet by the mistress of the house herself, Farren had hardly heard of such a thing except amongst those so closely tied to you they were as good as siblings. If this was how the older generation conducted themselves she was increasingly worried about Declan's parents and how he would expect their home life to be. For a moment her thoughts de-railed from the day to what it might be like to be with child amongst such casual people. Would they dare to try and discuss the intimate and biological nature of such an experience? Would they fawn over her bloated abdomen and rub it incessantly as she'd seen witches do in Diagon Alley amongst friends. It all felt very peculiar and foreign to her when she'd hardly considered Ireland that foreign, perhaps slightly but not this much.


She was seated as directed, amongst their garden set up with his Grandmother and Grandfather. Answering questions about her music was perfectly fine with her. It was easy to discuss even if jokes about people's musical talents grew tiresome. It wasn't uncommon to hear such things but after years of it anyone would tire of hearing about so and so's cousin or brother who could peck out Mozart on a piano being considered musical talent. Might as well compare Declan's potion skills to a student who'd passed their 5th year O.W.L in potions. Though she found it irritating he'd mentioned nothing about this silly holiday nor the fact that his family were so very casual she hope Declan would join them soon. At this rate she'd appreciate him as a translator if nothing else, knowing her nature and theirs she assumed he could polish out the sharp edges that might clash and make her seem uppity and snobbish to them with her formality and provide context for her as to why two of the grandest people in Ireland had the mannerisms of country bumpkins.


"I'm afraid you'll have to instruct me about all of todays happenings regarding Lúnasa," she said trying to at least keep banter flowing, "Declan utterly failed to mention such an event and I'm afraid, hailing from Cumbria, I'm not at all aware of the events on the Irish calendar apart from perhaps the larger celebrations."

[Declan O'Dwyer]

Muireann couldn't help but note that she was being addressed very formally. Had Declan not told her that they weren't like this here? She was tempted to correct the young woman, but she got the impression that Farren wasn't entirely comfortable here. It was probably best not to correct her and let her acclimatise a little.

She nodded along to Farren talking about her education. She could not help but note that the young woman in front of her was quite accomplished. In order for her to have had as much recognition as she did, she must have been quite good. "My youngest, Declan's aunt Aine will be so excited to meet you some time. She studied under Cremonesi in Milan and sings for the opera there. We don't see much of her due to her touring schedule, but we're all terribly proud."

The Veuve Cliquot arrived and was served quietly by an older elf. Declan's grandmother thanked the elf with a small gesture before returning her attention to Farren. She raised her glass for a toast. "To our wonderful guest for the day, an accomplished musician." Pádraig joined her enthusiastically.

"Your parents must be so proud of you," he carried on the conversation. "They're most discerning in their selection at Vienna and many a young wizard or witch wishing to join does not make it. Of course the quality and calibre of the music speaks entirely for itself. Muireann and I were in Bayreuth last summer to catch some of the annual summer festival performances. I dare say we've not heard Barkwith played better in many years, Voigtländer of course being a wonderful conductor."

His wife concurred. "A wonderful performance indeed. However, I dare say it doesn't surpass the Christmas concerto in Vienna of 1957. What an unforgettable night." She smiled happily at the memory.

There was something that to Muireann's sensibilities seemed bittersweet. She concluded that Farren couldn't have been comfortable giving it up. She'd said she stopped playing upon return to  England which probably meant she stopped around the time she had gotten married. Declan had mentioned that the young woman was widowed. Of course the English would do such a strange thing to a budding talent. It wasn't her place to comment, but she felt a lot of sympathy Farren. "Well, I hope you will have the opportunity to play professionally again. It would be a shame for the world to be deprived of your talent."

For a moment she caught her husband's gaze, indicating that she thought it best to change topics. She didn't want to pry too deeply into the matters of a lady she had only just met.

Pádraig immediately took over, happy to chat about Lúnasa. He loved pontificating about Irish culture and her interest in the topic was noted as a positive highlight right away. No wonder Declan was fond of the girl when she was so open minded and interested. Pádraig had maybe felt a smidge of reservation upon hearing she was English, which completely dissipated by how politely she was asking her questions now.

"We celebrate many holidays here. But usually the four most important are Samhain, Imbolc, Beltane and of course Lúnasa. The latter really isn't that much different from Lammas in Godric's Hollow, but we do call it by a different name. It's a celebration of summer and traditionally a time to make engagements. Quite often for a year and a day, though I don't think my grandson is as patient as that."

Muireann gave a soft laugh and nodded indeed. "Pádraig propose to me on Lúnasa in 1893 in Donegal. We were visiting Inis Cú for the big celebration there. A truly magical summer."

Pádraig was having none of her interruptions. Once set on the course of talking about Irish history he cheerfully continued. "Samhain is much the same as your All Hallows' Eve, while Beltane is much like your May Day, but we don't dance around poles with ribbons here. I think it's really only Imbolc that doesn't compare to anything on the English calendar. It's a divination festival..."

Declan had finally arrived, ready to intervene. "Grandfather, please. You know they don't teach those things in England and that I'm hardly the strictest of observers. I only ever care about Lúnasa. It was my favourite growing up, quite possibly because nothing compared to your bilberry cake." He put his hands on the old man's shoulders and have him a loving pat before settling into an empty chair besides his grandmother.

"You look stunning, Farren," he told her with an admiring gaze. "Though didn't I warn you that this would be a casual affair?" To be fair, he looked probably more formal himself in an elegant dark suit, but then Declan rarely did appear casual unless brewing in his lab. "Anyway, I hope my grandparents have been good to you and not too boring. Do tell grandfather off if he rambles on too much."

"Oh please," his grandfather protested. "We've welcomed her with opened arms. After all, she is to be family, right?"

A mild expression of horror settled into Declan's features as it dawned on him that his grandparents had probably treated her as such and given poor Farren a near heart attack in their complete informality. Well, he supposed Farren had survived and now knew what she was in for. Part of him wished they'd restrained themselves a little as he could only wonder if Farren was judging his most loved people as inferior based on what she was seeing. Alas, it had happened and he couldn't change it now.

"Farren," he began softly, "has my grandfather offered to show you the Anam Cara yet? I think you might rather enjoy taking a look."

[Farren Abercrombie]

Farren smiled at the mention of Declan's aunt, whom she'd not heard of, and was glad to hear their opinion of greatly accomplished was not at all liberally applied. "How delightful," she said genuinely impressed, "I've not had the pleasure to see the opera in Milan but I am sure it affords her a most fulfilling and exciting experience." She wondered how these people, whom were from a generation even older than her own parents, seemed so happy to let their youngest run off to Europe and pursue music. It was such an odd thing to encourage a woman of good breeding to pursue long term she'd been taught.


She was pleased with the champagne and took it from the elf gently offering a gracious nod to the beast. Seeing as this woman, her grandmother in-law to be, had been carting one around in her arms she assumed she'd best be nice to them. Not that she was cruel to them at home, just that she rarely paid them any mind apart from her own dedicated elf, Priss, whom she regarded rather fondly. Though she was rather accustomed to being toasted and the center of attention she found it somewhat uncomfortable now. Their easy manner was so casual she found it odd and she'd prepared for some kind of exhaustive examination of her manners, nature, talents, and suitability as a Lady. Though she did not actually believe it to be the case she wondered if this tone was a false pretense and there was some kind of grilling yet to come. Nevertheless she raised her glass as they toasted her and echoed her thanks politely.


It almost made her laugh when Mr. O'Dwyer said her parents must be proud. Surely he'd be shocked to know the truth. That her mother had been given a virtuoso and took any opportunity possible to bemoan the fact that she was better at muggle instruments than dueling. "I suppose they are proud enough," she offered in a tone that suggested there was much detail being politely parsed out, "My mother would prefer me to be a great duelist and no doubt my father would prefer me to dedicate myself to ancient runes and runic magic. Seeing as I prefer neither they have both agreed to support me with my music so long as it does not interfere with my responsibility to the family." There were a great many things she could have said that would have been more true and more funny. That they couldn't agree whether she should be a Death Eater or carve up dead people for sport like her father so they'd agreed she could be a house wife. That they were terribly disappointed in her magical talent so they'd decided it best to make her a brood mare instead. Obviously these would be highly inappropriate but no doubt, a great deal more true.


"It's nice to be around those who understand and truly appreciate the music," she noted with a grin, "I shall have to play for you all sometime. I'd be happy to play anything you like. If you'd like to see if you can best me I'm happy to take the most difficult sheet of music you can find," she gave Mrs. O'Dwyer a cunning little glance as if to dare her, "I'm quite confident you'll never have heard it done better than by me." There - she could be loose and fun. She'd practically made three jokes now. If only Declan were here to notice her efforts despite finding it all so horribly odd.


She made no comment on playing professionally in the future. Giving it up at all had been a sore subject. Clive's quidditch schedule was so complicated it made their marriage impossible if she'd not been at home in London. So naturally, she'd been told to give up her career, which everyone had likened to a hobby, in order to be home for her husband and please him with her wifely duties as he desired.  Perhaps now, being older and wiser, she'd put up a fight if she were in the same place again. At so young an age though she'd had no mind to fight the Abercrombies, the Rosiers, and a husband whose affection she was desperate to win. Giving up her violin seat had seemed like a small price to pay for the two families and their assurance that with doing so her husband would love her so dearly her world would be made perfect and her baby should follow near immediately. How foolish she'd been.


Thankfully the subject was changed before she had to speak more of it and perhaps accidentally reveal how tender a subject it truly was. Though it was no fault of their own she almost felt wounded that she, once a great budding talent of Europe, was now offering to play for people in their drawing room for sport. Mr. O'Dwyer made sure not to let her linger in her own thoughts for long though. As it would turn out, she in fact knew nothing of Irish holidays. She'd assumed, ignorantly, that the largest holiday to celebrate was St. Patrick's day. Thankfully the old man seemed far more keen to explain the holidays than wonder what she knew or didn't know. She wondered if she should clarify that their Scottish surname was name only and their loyalty to England had been cemented many centuries ago and the name kept and anglicized as their English land, bequeathed to them by the crown, lay so very close to the border. 


Yet the old couple remained nothing but cheery and bright. No hint of disdain for her lack of knowledge nor English background. No hint of sarcasm about her ill-preparedness. As she made her way through her glass of champagne, listening intently enough, she found herself wondering what it was like to have relations so friendly and interested in people and things outside of themselves. In all her life she'd not seen her Grandfather so animated around a stranger as Mr. O'Dwyer now was with her.


She knew somewhat of Lammas day though, she'd rather thought it to be a celebration of summer harvests of pagans of olde, as opposed to a summer celebration and time for engagements. At the mention of this she immediately began to wonder, somewhat apprehensively, what if anything Declan had planned. She was not scared of an engagement, rather scared of it happening in front of others - his grandparents. Mr. O'Dwyer commented so quickly that 'his grandson was not so patient as to wait a year' that she almost missed his meaning but it clicked quite quickly that there was no pretense here. Either Declan had confessed to them his intentions or they'd gotten if from him some other way.


As if he'd known she was thinking of him he appeared. He was easy and lively with his grandparents in a way that she found astonishing after her own family. There was no change in his mannerisms around them from when he was with her. He complimented her and she couldn't help but smile, her eyes darting away from him in a lapse of well rehearsed composure. Of course she knew she looked amazing. Of course she knew he found everything about her appearance and form pleasing and desirable. It was another thing entirely to make such a comment before his grandparents though. Shocking, yet again.


"Well, what did you want me to wear? The same dress and pinafore I've worn to roam the grounds of Dalemain since I was 17? And show up here looking like some kind of 18th century farm maiden?" Her tone was light, teasing him. "This is casual...." she paused her blue eyes sparkling just for him as she held his gaze, "enough."


"Mr. and Mrs. O'Dwyer have been very pleasant to me, I'm happy to report there is nothing you can fault them for."


Mr. O'Dwyer then came out and said plainly what she'd inferred he meant all along. They knew. There was no reason they should not but the fact that this was increasingly an open secret somehow made her nervous. There was no reason to suppose it wouldn't work out, but if it didn't, and more and more people knew...she could only assume then Mr. Malfoy would be her only option.


"No, we've only been chatting about my education and the holidays," she confirmed to Declan. "I am happy to see whatever you'd please. I've nearly finished this fine glass so if we are to move locations best do so before I settle into a second glass."

[Declan O'Dwyer]

Declan was a little surprised as Farren teased him lightly. Maybe, she wasn't as uncomfortable as he had worried she might be. While he'd talked about them being from very different worlds, he'd never been entirely convinced that she really understood what he meant by that. It occurred to him now that he may have been wrong all along and that Farren was much more flexible and adaptable than he had suspected.

He wondered if he should join her for that second glass or if he should insist on showing her some of the sights before his parents rejoined them. Though he kept telling himself that he didn't care about their verdict, he still worried how they would react to Farren. His father could be quite unpredictable and temperamental.

"Well, let's sneak in a quick look at the Anam Cara then before it's time to cut the cake." Declan turned to his grandfather. "Do you want to come as well?"

He needn't have asked. Pádraig was already on his feet by the time Declan had finished speaking.

"I dare say you will enjoy this, Farren," the old man enthused cheerfully. "This way." He pointed in the direction of a small auxiliary building.

"I'm sure Declan will have talked about this, but I can promise seeing it for real is nothing like hearing tales about it."

Of course, here the older O'Dwyer was entirely wrong. Declan hadn't said much at all about the family vaults, mines, gems and riches. He couldn't imagine that Farren would care about that as long as she was provided for. However, there were a thing or two Declan was looking to showing off.

Pádraig opened the door of the auxiliary building and lead them down the stairs to a mine shaft. There were two carts parked next to a little platform.

"You go ahead, grandfather," Declan suggested, while helping Farren to board the second cart. They looked a little fancier than the carts used by Gringotts and were obviously less used.

"I'll see you there," Pádraig confirmed and shortly after zoomed off in his cart.

"So this is part of the family vaults," Declan began to explain. "While we do have some money in London, anything that is truly valuable is stored somewhere in this network. You might feel the magic protecting this place. It's quite heavy the deeper we will descend, but don't worry, I've got you." Stepping behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and held her carefully. "And I think you might enjoy this little excursion."

He moved his hand and their cart started to speed after Pádraig's accelerating to full speed a matter of seconds.

"As you can imagine this infrastructure is connected directly to our mines and has another stop near Glenbally. We're headed for vault B7. They're all keyed to family blood and though it looks like there is nobody here these tunnels are well defended. It would probably not wise to come here on your own until we're married, though I can't imagine why you would."

He kept talking as they zoomed past the series of ornate looking doors that made up the first level of vaults. Their cart spiralled around to a level deeper before coming to a halt. Declan again helped Farren with disembarking gracefully.

His grandfather had already opened the door, letting Farren and Declan inside. The vault itself was lit by a bright magical spark, illuminating the numerous shelves and boxes in the room. There were several dozens of boxes in immediate line of sight, all filled to the brim with diamonds. Most of the stones were cut and polished, though a few boxes of raw diamonds could be found near the door. There were stones in every imaginable colour.

"Come round this way," Declan's grandfather prompted, leading them around a shelf to a small desk with various appraising tools. Near the desk were several books placed on pedestals. One was opened to a page with the name Fawley written across the top. The text below was authored in Irish, though the presence of numbers was indicative of it containing financial information.

"So, the Anam Cara is Declan's favourite," Pádraig explained and retrieved a black velvet box from a shelf. He opened it carefully to reveal a massive green diamond, big enough to fill Farren's palm. It was a pear-cut brilliant. "You can pick it up and take a look."

Declan reached for another box pulling it down from one of the shelves. It was filled to the brim with clear brilliants of a much smaller size. "I thought you might want to pick a new for a new tiara," he said with a small smile.

[Farren Abercrombie]

"Alright, if it pleases you," she said consenting to whatever little side quest he'd be taking her on. Declan certainly had not talked about this Anam Cara, whatever that might be, just like he had not talked about this holiday. Her gaze shot to Declan from the corner of her eyes, a side eye that said, 'you've left me woefully unprepared for this - thank you very much'. However despite walking into the total unknown she followed diligently towards the little building.


She was more than surprised when they entered what appeared very clearly to be a mine shaft. Of course she knew the O'Dwyers owned a mine, or was it mines - plural? It had never occured to her that it sat 15 meters from their house though. Now that she thought about it she wasn't sure Declan had ever said anything at all about them other than they existed. This was all turning out so oddly she hoped her well practiced expression of neutral pleasantness would hold since his Grandfather was with them. Taking his hand she climbed into the cart as elegantly as was possible and gave a little wave as his Grandfather lurched out of the loading area ahead of them.


"Yet another detail you left out about the day," she said as he climbed into the cart behind her. She wasn't sore but she was tedious and having more than one surprise in a day like today left her feeling like she'd shown up to an exam she'd not prepared for at all. "Alright then," she said with a nod as he explained this was their vault. For a moment she found it quite odd before thinking it was not so different in function than the library at Dalemain. Perhaps books were not as valuable as jewels in many cases but many in their subterranean library were. One could not enter apparate estate without Abercrombie blood or a enchanted medallion carrying the blood of the Abercrombie they had married. The magical wards on Dalemain had only allowed Declan to enter the house because he came via herself and he'd only been allowed to enter the library as her father's magical forces against the door overrode the blood wards against the space. So, perhaps this was not so crazy, even if the mechanism, a mine shaft, was rather over the top.


While she felt rather on edge about the day in general she let herself try and relax under his guard and sink back into him as they lurched forward. He explained the system and she nodded. "I don't know what it never occurred to me that the homes would be connected to the mines, I suppose we've never really discussed them," she commented. "I can assure you I have very little desire to come down here even when we are married," she noted his warning and the narrow tunnel was assurance enough to not come here alone if she could help it. Perhaps it was surprising considering her beloved Slytherin house was subterranean but she'd always found the dark underground very uncomfortable.  The last time she'd been to Gringotts was hours after Clive's death. It had been a miserable experience even if it hadn't involved shoving into a wobbly cart with Pyxis and spiraling to the depths of the earth with a goblin. She'd gone preemptively, well aware that her claim to Clive's assets and the Rosier assets would be tested by his parents. She'd extracted the Will he'd authored with her as the beneficiary as well as the few jewels he'd gifted her that weren't kept in their house. Hopefully, this time around, any mine cart trips would be far more pleasant.


What they pulled up to was impressive even from the outside glance. As Declan helped her out of the cart she shot him an anticipatory glance, what was this about? They entered a room full of gems, the likes of which she'd never seen. She tried her best not to gawk, to remain unflustered by the sparkles around her, and observe the scene with polite interest. "This is quite a collection," she said pleasantly with a sweet smile.


As directed she followed Grandfather O'Dwyer around the desk. When he opened the box to this Anam Cara, which she'd thought had been the name of this whole place originally, she couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in surprise at the stone inside. "My goodness, what a stone," she said softly. Smiling a little she hesitantly took it into her hand as instructed, running her fingers over it's cool smooth surfaces. "I suppose I've never seen such a stone," she noted as she considered it and the way the light bounced off it's facets. Smiling at Declan she shifted the stone to her other hand, "I can see why you are partial to it, seems like a special piece. How did it come by it's name?" she carefully returned it to it's box, she didn't want to hold onto it too long and give some kind of impression that she was wanting it or bewitched by it like a middle class tourist gawking at the jewels of a rich family on display at their estate turned museum.


Declan had pulled a box of gems off the shelf and was now presenting it to her. He suggested she pick something for a tiara and for a moment she was actually taken aback. Her gaze met his as her emotions got the best of her and her pulse quickened. Of course she had no doubt he was going to propose, that they would be married in the near enough future, and that all the benefits of being Mrs. O'Dwyer would be quickly bestowed upon her. However there was something stirring about this. He was boldly making her a promise in front of his Grandfather. He was well aware that at least in her culture only married women wore tiaras. They were often gifted to the bride from the groom's family, a piece she would wear during her wedding festivities to mark her as married into that family. Declan had watched her walk down the aisle wearing the Rosier Auvergne tiara that had been gifted to her a week before her wedding from Clive's grandmother. She assumed that he was now planning to have his family make her a new tiara, a new O'Dwyer tiara, specifically to their tastes as a pair. It was moving, how could it not be? She pursed her lips for a moment, her eyes locked on his, as the warmth in her chest welled up for him. It was an intimate gaze, one she dare not let linger in front of his grandfather, but even for her it was impossible to hide her deep affection for him.

"Well," she managed softly her gaze still affectionately affixed to his, "I certainly wasn't expecting such a thing, how very generous," she stepped closer to him and the box. Did he know how much she wanted to kiss him? Smiling she looked down at the box a bit apprehensive, "To be frank," she glanced at Grandfather O'Dwyer with a hesitant grin, "I've never picked out my own pieces. Literally everything I own is either an heirloom or a gift someone picked for me." She assumed this was normal for women of her stature. Why buy new when the family vaults held 700 years worth of fine jewels? She considered the stones in front of her. She disliked anything too angular so that ruled out quite a few cuts. "I prefer round stones," she said softly, "Like these," she pointed delicately to two round stones near the back of the box. "Perhaps one of these if you approve?"

[Declan O'Dwyer]

"Well, this wasn't entirely planned," he said softly, trying to reassure Farren. "And I didn't think you'd be very interested in hearing about a vault."

There were some facets of his life he just knew didn't appeal to her, and he was fine with that. Perhaps, more than fine. He was hardly and expert on relationships, but it seemed like a rather immature concept for a couple to share in every experience and have the same tastes and views on everything. Not only did it seem like a recipe for things to get boring, but Declan also held the opinion that everybody needed some time to themselves every once in a while. It had always seemed clear to him that the areas in which his family was very unconventional were likely going to provide such a retreat when he needed it.

Hopefully, Farren would be able to just go with the flow and not worry too much. He knew that she often worried more than she let on and that she was probably a little paranoid, wondering if his family would react to her in a similar manner as her mother had no doubt reacted to him. It would take time and more than one visit to show her that his folks weren't like that and there were other things they considered far more important than reputation alone.

It seemed perhaps the stones were talking her mind of the matter. Declan smiled.

"Anam Cara is an Irish language expression," Declan explained. "It doesn't entirely translate well, but it's somewhat akin to soulmate, but it's more spiritual in its meaning. I can't entirely say what was one my mind when I named it, that was quite some time ago."

Declan's grandfather nodded. "He was still a boy in fact. But Declan used to be rather fond of naming the bigger stones and it was about the only way I could convince him to study his Irish vocabulary." Clearly, this was a fond memory for Declan's grandfather. "We've sold a good number of them over the years, but this one Declan never let me sell. So I did promise him we'd make a jewellery featuring it some time."

There was an implication hanging in the air, but Pádraig didn't take it any further, unsure of how exactly Declan might chose to continue the conversation. They hadn't agreed a plan prior to taking Farren, but the fact that he wanted to show her pretty much spoke for itself.

Declan took note that Farren rather seemed to prefer the smaller round stones.

"There is a lot to be said for tradition," he agreed, "and there is a beauty to heirloom pieces, but they are more about representing the family than the wearer. I don't think I'd be happy with that being an only option."

Really, there were a lot of complex feelings wrapped up in the subject of jewellery, perhaps more than he wanted to openly explore in front of his grandfather. He wanted Farren to be comfortable in her own skin, rather than being wrapped up in the Gaelic revival narrative of his family. Somehow he couldn't picture her in the tree of life and triskelion imagery that featured on a lot of the family collection. And it wasn't just about accommodating her. He really didn't feel he needed to stamp his Irish heritage over everything in his life in order to get taken seriously. Sometimes, it was nice to step back from the political stage and just be a private person.

Perhaps, he would get the opportunity to tell her more about it later.

"I think you're most fond of the clear stones," he said, "or at least I've rarely seen you wear another colour. Though if blue or pink strikes your fancy I am sure we do have some of those around as well..."

His voice trailed off in uncertainty not quite sure how to continue the conversation. For a moment he felt like there was some sort of spark in the air, like he was about to say something, but the moment passed.

"Grandfather could probably draw some sketches of a piece," he continued speaking, "but he usually does his best work if he just gets to know the prospective wearer of the piece a little and is given free reign. And there's no reason to keep us down here for that."

In hindsight, it had been a mistake to take the old man along. What Declan really wanted was a moment alone with Farren and it was only now that he realised he did.

Pádraig seemed to pick up on the mood as well and gave the two young people a knowing smile.

"Let me head back up first. I'm sure my wife will need a hand with cutting the cake." It was a flimsy excuse, but he knew he wouldn't be contested on it and he could let Declan and Farren have their moment before having to face more socialising. He weaved past the stacks and shelves with remarkable speed and was gone just as quick as a goblin.

Declan couldn't help letting out a sigh of relief. It wasn't that he didn't love his grandparents, but somehow this all felt a little more awkward than he had anticipated. He quietly counted down to five in his mind, before drawing Farren into his embrace and placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"How are you holding up?" he asked with genuine concern. "Shall we take a brief break? We still have lots of things ahead of us this afternoon, but I'm rather grateful for a moment alone."

[Farren Abercrombie]

Farren nodded politely as they explained the large green stone's name. When Mr. O'Dwyer mentioned naming the stones was one of the few ways he could get Declan to study the Irish language she smiled, "Shocking. I thought studying was his one true joy in life," she was ribbing him lightly. Beyond that she offered no further comment or thought about the green stone. Something awkward hung over the talk of jewels and jewelry, a massive green stone Declan had named after the idea of soulmates, mention of a tiara for her, Mr. O'Dwyer having promised to the the green stone into something for Declan. It was presumptuous but she had the inkling that after all these years Declan had found a use for his favorite stone and was tip toeing around it now. It wasn't at all polite to pry and ask such things now in front of his Grandfather so she happily let the matter drop.

"Indeed, I like clear stones. I do have a respectable collection of sapphires and emeralds as well. The Abercrombie clan tartan is blue and green so they are very common amongst the family's jewel collection even though I think most would consider us hardly worthy of wearing the family tartan at this point, since we sided with the British crown back in the 1640s." She paused offering a little smile, she was unsure of herself and had nearly trailed off nervously in conversation about the dramatic and impossible to follow family history of a clan of magical Scots in Cumbria whom had sided with the English in the civil war.


Thankfully everyone seemed to realize there was a lingering awkwardness in the air. Mr. O'Dwyer excused himself hastily and bid them adeu quickly. Alone again she watched Declan, waiting for him to act and let on what was going on truly. He embraced her firmly and she gladly gave him a tight squeeze.

"I'm fine....a bit unsure about all of this vault and holiday business," she smiled a little, "None of my governesses prepared me for what to do when one is expecting an engagement and is ferried off to a vault of priceless gems with their suitor's Grandfather proceeding over the event. I don't want to appear over eager about the jewels - what if he thinks I'm after your fortunes? Nor do I want to appear indifferent and unappreciative. I feel rather on my back foot about some of this but I think overall it's going as expected?"

She raised her eyebrows hoping he would concur that things were going as well as he'd expected and that she'd done nothing for them to look poorly upon.


"They're rather lovely people I think," she commented, "A bit shocking to me, that they seem so invested in you and open minded as to your happiness. I suppose I am learning rather a lot about you in this short time. To me it seems you have a great deal in common with Mr. O'Dwyer, his positive influence on you is clear."

Pausing she reached up and tenderly played with a strand of his hair. "It's a far better reception than I deserve given the behavior of my mother towards you. I wish I were more embarassed about it but I was so expecting such a thing I can't even feel shame for it, just annoyance. These people care about you very much, I just hope they will be patient with me. This type of family dynamic is so foreign. It will be odd for awhile to be a person instead of a chess piece."


"But really....will you tell me or is this some secret what this business is all about?" she gestured to the rows of gems. "My mother might have shut her mouth if she'd known about all of this. I'm sure father and grandfather will be surprised as well. Though I can hardly blame them for the surprise. Here I've known you near on 20 years and shared a bed with you and eagerly await being titled your wife and had not a bloody clue about this. Not that I had any doubt about your fortunes and ability to provide our children a comfortable life and inheritance but....this is a rather shocking revelation. The dramatics of the space alone are shocking, never mind the implied content and riches of it. I don't know what I imagined but it surely was not this."


Smiling she kissed his lips lightly. "Should this be my pet name for you then? Anam Cara? It certainly sounds more dignified and mysterious than pet names couples use. Dearest or baby or sweetie seem too shallow and childish compared to Anam Cara but perhaps it is the wrong context to apply it to you? I haven't the faintest idea about how things go in Irish - as we've all seen well demonstrated today."

[Declan O'Dwyer]

"I suppose you could call me that." He gave her a big smile.  He'd never really given thought to which pet names they might use with each other, but it was cute. "We have a lot of phrases for that kind of thing in Irish. This one isn't always used in a romantic context, but it implies a deep spiritual connection."

His voiced trailed off explaining the Irish phrase, still trying to make sense of what had come moments before. 

"And will I tell you what?" He wasn't sure what she was really asking. Was this Farren wanting to know about the family business? He was sure he had mentioned it on occasion, though perhaps not as much as he ought to have done. Still, it couldn't be as much of a surprise as she was letting on.

He paused. "I guess it's just that I want you to know all there is to know about this family. And I want you to understand why it matters to me. We're both part of a legacy that has been going on for centuries."

Declan reached into one of the bowls of diamonds, grabbing a large handful of stones. "There are a lot of things ahead of us that will be really hard. We talked about being in uncharted lands before. We've got to figure out how to make it all fit together. How to have it all make sense to the both of us."

With a lazy spell he set the stones afloat letting them arrange themselves into a tiara pattern.

"I'll upend half your world. In my family we can cook, go on walks together, argue over literature and music as if our lives depend on it and we probably do yet more things that must be very strange to you. And I'm worried that it's all a bit much."

He narrowed his eyes, adjusting the stones in the floating arrangement. "And while I hope you'll enjoy at least a part of this madness I also want you to know that you're my Queen. You can just be you and it will always be good enough. My love is unconditional and I think you will find this true for my family as well."

Declan took a step closer, carefully brushing his fingers along the side of her face tucking in an unruly strand of her that had come lose during their ride on the mine cart.

"I'm taking you along for our silly traditions not because I expect you to learn them all, but because you're a part of us now and you belong here. And Lughnasadh, well, it's a time to celebrate love. So that's part of the everything I want to show you as well."

Touching her shoulders lightly Declan turned her around. "If you look at that metal tub on that shelf and squint just a little, you might see what I am seeing very time I look at you." 

He let the diamonds swirl around her. For a moment they settled into shapes again forming a tiara, necklace and earrings, flimsily held together for by the power of his magic. As the spell faded the stones rained over her while Declan laughed softly.

"Well, I gotta work on making these permanent, but you get the idea."

[Farren Abercrombie]

"You're very humble about all of this is what I mean. I don't know what I expected but it certainly wasn't as much as all this. Of course you told me the family had gem mines but I suppose I was expecting something....smaller? Not a Gringotts worthy cavern full of tunnel tracks and multiple vaults and blood magic. Maybe I just didn't bother to pay much attention to it because....it doesn't matter that much to me? I'm in love with you for you and I trust you. It didn't occur to me to ever look into the extent of this business or any details of your fortune. So I'm just a little shocked at the expanse and fantastical elements of it all."

She shrugged, it was true, for the first time in her life she'd not bothered to go digging around for information about the fortune and scandals attached to the family. Every man who had called on her since Clive's death had been expertly researched no matter how uninterested she was in them. But this time these details were the furthest thing from her mind in reality. That was an unexpected realization, to just trust and not care. Of course she knew he had plenty of money, more than they could ever use, but now it was occurring to her just how much her heart was winning out over the social engineering she'd done most of her life.


But she didn't spend much time musing over this as he was speaking again and despite being all smiles his tone seemed rather genuine and reflective. She wasn't sure how she felt about the things he was speaking about. Sure, there would be troubles, they were in many ways very different people, their expectations in relationships and family were surely very different. But the more time they spent together, each additional emotional and physically intimate moment they shared these concerns seemed less and less problematic in the grand scheme of things.


Farren grinned as he took a handful of stones and animated them above her. She couldn't quite make out what it looked like but she had a good idea. Indeed, his family was very strange to her but she was quickly starting to think things about his family and hers that might shock him far more than they shocked her. Perhaps all the liberalism and togetherness was foreign and uncomfortable now but she had adapted to far worse in her last marriage. No one had worried about her the last time around. So already she was growing more confident in this than she'd been in any relationship.


For a moment her breath caught in her chest, the jewels hovering over her head didn't matter compared to the few words he'd uttered. A deep sense of security and peace seemed to envelope her damaged little heart and the sense of love and admiration for him that washed over her was intense.

"Dec," she whispered softly as he ran his fingers down her cheek. Carefully, mindful not to knock the jewels down she turned her face just enough to press her lips against his fingers. Turning as he guided her she looked up at the tub he pointed towards. It was far from a good mirror but it was enough and the shimmer of the stones was bright enough for her to see what he'd done. Smiling she stared at her murky reflection admiring the coronation jewels he'd arranged on her.


She smiled as the stones rained down on her gently shaking them from her dress and reaching up to swipe them from her hair. Laughing she turned back to him shaking her head a little at him for having let the stones dissolve into a diamond shower and end up on the floor.


"Declan," she said her smile growing into a warm beam, everything he'd said had hit her like a warm wave. Engulfing her fragile little heart, overwhelming her senses, and carrying her out to sea on a wave of sheer passion for him. Reaching for him she closed the space between them, pushing diamonds out of her way with the toe of her shoe as she pulled him into her arms. Her arms around his waist holding him close to her she looked him over with a knowing smile on her face. Having him close pushed the high she was riding higher.


"You are right about all of that. Things will be hard. Things will be an adjustment. Life is going to change drastically. But...I don't have a single doubt in my mind that it will all be worth it and all of the adjustments and growing pains associated with it are a small price to pay for this feeling." Shifting her hands she reached up to cup his face, her other palm pressed firmly into the small of his back holding him close to her with a firm pressure. "I am not as eloquent as you most of the time, so for now I will just say that you are so very, very, deeply loved."

Tenderly she leaned in and kissed him. Her heart hammering in her chest as she did, the deep sense of love and passion he evoked swelling inside her, pushing harder and harder against her chest.  Adjusting her angle she kissed him more deeply, the wave of emotion enveloping her further as the gnawing of carnal passion began to swell along side the raw emotion.


"I don't expect it to be easy. I don't expect us to get everything perfect. I suspect we will have epic fights. I'm sure there will be more than one occasion where we question everything and our own sanity in signing up for this. But, I would bet every single diamond in this vault that those times pale in comparison to the times we're stupidly happy. If bathing a house elf is the price I have to pay to kiss you everyday for the rest of my life - so be it. If hosting half a dozen silly Irish holidays a year is the tax I owe for calling you my husband - fine. If eating your homemade stew once a week is what it takes to fall asleep in your arms - then I love stew."


Slowly she pulled back, removing her hand from the small of his back to reach up and gently stroke his hair, her thumb running over his cheek. "I don't care. Nothing is perfect. Nothing worth having is easy. I appreciate you wanting me to be comfortable and feel accepted but all of that is just a bonus. I am quite sure until now I thought these kinds of feelings were impossible but every moment we have alone, every kiss, every touch, I fall more and more in love with you and I am certain nothing in this world will make me happier than you can. Nothing is more important to me than this, being your Queen, loving you." Smiling a little she placed a soft kiss on his lips before tenderly nudging his nose with hers in a playful manner.

"So yes, hurry up and make these diamonds permanent. Nothing is going to change my mind. I'm yours. I'm just waiting for you to officially claim me." She smirked, if he asked her this very second and proposed to her with a handful of diamonds scooped out of a jar she'd say yes. If he asked her to get up in the morning and marry him in his Grandparent's garden she would. "It will be hard at times but if this is how it feels now, I cannot imagine how intense our love will grow with time."


Sighing a contented little sigh she glanced down at the diamonds that littered the floor around them. With a swish of her wrist she summoned the largest one towards her, as it flew through the air into her palm she transfigured it to a beautiful emerald shade. "I am partial to emerald though. It is the primary accent in the Abercrombie tartan associated with our original clanlands in Fife. Besides that, I think you secretly like the idea of taming a foxy little Slytherin princess." Laughing a little she placed the stone in his hand, "Just a thought. An emerald here or there in the design. Seems most fitting." The diamond's emerald tone faded and it returned to it's original white-clear sheen.

"So....do you think they actually like me or....like me enough because you have told them they must?"

[Declan O'Dwyer]

Farren hadn't done her research on him? The notion was so absurd it took him a moment to digest the idea. He was certain her family kept track of everyone who was anyone in excruciating detail. He supposed that being Irish his family probably meant they didn't qualify for their usual level of scrutiny. The Abercrombies could be rather insular in their view of the world. As far as they were concerned the days of the British Empire had probably never ended. It had to be getting uncomfortable inside their bubble these days, watching the British sphere of influence of shrinking while others took their place. It was hardly surprising Farren's family had been radicalised.

Still, she hadn't even bothered to look him up? The corners of his lips lifted in amusement and he gave her a slightly lopsided smile. He recognised her admission for what it was, grand and big. She'd disregarded the established wisdom of their social set and just trusted him. It was delightful and unexpected. Of course she'd told him that she loved him, but hearing the words was not the same as seeing them substantiated through her actions. She didn't care who he was and wanted him just as he was. More or less. He was sure the expensive clothes, jewellery and implication of wealth had helped at least a little. Still, this was sweet and romantic.

Declan placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and brushed an unruly strand of her hair back behind her ear.

She was quick to make a little comment about wanting the diamonds now and he struggled to hold back a good natured laugh. "Yes, I know, I've been keeping you waiting. However, there are some things in life that just can't be rushed." He feigned an air of confidence he didn't really feel and tried to look relaxed. He had his plans for proposing to her and while felt a little itch to just be spontaneous here and now were neither the time nor the place. They would wait a little longer. It would be worth it.

-  

Their ascent back up from the vaults was rather uneventful, but Declan enjoyed the moment for what it represented. The calm before the storm. He had mixed feelings about more time with his family. While he was certainly proud of them, there was no denying that they were an odd bunch and unlike anything Farren had experienced. So far she had taken the strangeness of it all in her stride, but that had been just his grandparents. They were easy to get along with. It was the rest of the lot that worried him.

They could hear the O'Dwyers long before they could see them. The voices of Pádraig and Muireann were almost drowned out by the rumbling baritone of his father and the hearty laughter of his mother. He could tell that Lorcan was complaining about something just from the cadence of his speech. The exact words didn't matter. He was being a moody teenager. There was another voice in the mix he couldn't place. Something sweet and syrupy that was unfamiliar to Declan.

"It certainly sounds like my parents are back from picking berries," he said with a sense of gravity that felt altogether wrong for the content of his statement.

And sure enough there they were. His grandparents, his mother and father, his brother and a rather pretty blonde that was not part of the family. She was maybe sixteen or seventeen and looked about as uncomfortable as could be. Lorcan's girlfriend? Declan hadn't known such a person even existed but welcomed the idea as he was sure it would take some of the family's scrutiny of himself and Farren.

They weren't entirely back at the table yet when Fintan, Declan's father, waved at them enthusiastically. He looked somewhat more relaxed than usual, a wreath of flowers woven through his hair, clashing spectacularly with his fancy blue duelling ensemble. His face sported a big smile, which was so alien to Declan he didn't even know how to react. His father never smiled at him. He probably wasn't smiling at him now either, but there was a possibility that he was smiling at Farren. How, well, odd.

"Miss Abercrombie," Fintan greeted with an unusual for him air of formality. "It's really our pleasure to have you here at Dromore Lodge. May I say that you look lovely this afternoon."

Declan was fighting the urge to elbow his father. It somehow felt like he was part of a play rather than his own life.

"You really do take after your mother," Fintan continued. "I can see the family resemblance."

Meanwhile Lorcan was trying to get his brother's attention from across the table. "Hey Dec!"

Weird. Point blank weird.

"This is Stephanie Selwyn," Lorcan introduced as though Declan was supposed to recognise the name. Ever polite he just offered a mild smile and courteous handshake, not wanting to make the poor thing feel more frightened than she already was.

"Declan O'Dwyer, nice to meet you."

Declan turned to Farren again giving her an expression that clearly said he didn't have much of an idea of what was going on either.

"Farren, my brother Lorcan, my father Fintan and well, Stephanie Selwyn." He had to bite his tongue not to make some sort of snarky comment, though he supposed Farren might pick his unsaid words just from the crooked facial expression he gave.

Declan's grandmother meanwhile was busy cutting cake and heaping way too large slices onto entirely too small plates.

"Cream?" She asked rhetorically, before pouring some onto a slice of cake and handing it over to Farren. "I'm sure you'll appreciate this one," she said warmly, "it's a family recipe. And the men decorated it."

A house elf brushed past pouring tea for everybody, milk and sugar included.

Declan caught Farren's eye only managing an apologetic shrug.

Fintan meanwhile continued to speak over the noise, keen to continue the conversation he had started with Farren. "Is this your first time to Ireland? Well, you've certainly chosen a great time to come and visit. We're all delighted to have you here."

It was a strange thing, but his father being nice set Declan on edge in a way him being horrible wouldn't have. It left him with an unpleasant sense of foreboding that something strange or unwelcome was about to happen. He leaned subtly towards Farren and whispered "Whatever they'll do, let me apologise before it happens."

[Farren Abercrombie]

The family were nothing if not lively. He'd mentioned this of course but actually experiencing it was something different. Not that her family never laughed together or didn't have it's own traditions, just that for many years now she felt like all of that had been overshadowed by varying incidents of misery. It was hard to have a happy Christmas or Hallows Eve when the women of the family had been recently radicalized in a cult and the youngest just widowed.


Having already found the Grandparents friendly and agreeable and having met the mother before she had really only worry about the father. The father was the one she'd been warned most about. Fintan O'Dwyer was somehow both a lazy do nothing for the family and a tyrant per her assessment by Declan's telling. A renowned dueler, sure, but so useless at the business and logic skills these people seemed to prize so deeply his son half his age usurped him as heir. Not that she wasn't unfamiliar with fathers who had little acumen for the family business. The primary difference seemed to be her father was thrilled to transfer any power and duties to her he could, without resistance.


Fintan would of course know her mother. The world renowned duelist who never was. It wouldn't surprise her if in her mother's youth, before her career had been stopped, if she and Fintan had sparred regularly. From what she gathered from Declan they certainly knew eachother now though through one Tom Riddle. Which of course meant he should also know her Grandmother, Farrah well enough and perhaps, though she wasn't sure, perhaps even her Grandfather.


The reception he offered and the scene they arrived upon seemed to far exceed Declan's expectations judging by his expressions.


"Mr. O'Dwyer, " she offered a polite head nod, "A pleasure to meet you at long last," she offered hoping the suggestion that he was, even to her, infamous would grease the wheels a bit.


With a polite smile she nodded again, "Thank you, indeed many people declare the resemblance is strong." So long as no one compared her behavior to her mother she was fine with such comments.


Declan motioned to introduce her to his brother, whom he had always described as dutiful and cute. Just a kid and still in school it was a bit odd for her to see such a chasm between the brothers in age and life happenings. How odd it must be to be a teenager and your parents announce another child is on the way. Surely Declan was as much a father to this boy as he was brother, given the harsh hand his father seemed to deal out. Or perhaps it was Lorcan's realtively good looks and agreeable attitude that spared him such harshness?


Whatever was going on she hardly minded. Everyone seemed friendly enough and if anything their high spirits and expanding party number reminded them vaguely of her Grandmother's family. French, affectionate, and extremely social. "It's a pleasure to meet you all," she said politely, though she was unsure what Miss Selwyn was doing here or whom she was. Though of course the Selwyn family were known to her, if this girl was of social standing, it was easy to assume she'd not had her debut.


"I've heard very much about you Lorcan," she added addressing him specifically since he would soon be her brother in law and having no actual siblings of her own she hoped that at the very least they could foster a relationship with the boy. "Declan tells me you're quite popular and far more likely than he to consent to any of our little society gatherings and parties. Perhaps you know Miss Selwyn from such an event?" If no one was going to ask she certainly would.


She graciously took the cake from Mrs. O'Dwyer. The men decorated the cake? Bizarre. But that seemed to be their norm, everyone doing odd things that servants should be doing. Certainly once she was the mistress of her home that would not be the case but it was a trivial thing to be upset about here.


"I have been to Ireland a handful of times before," she responded to Fintan, "However this is the first time visiting an estate such as this or attending any kind of occasion, with friends, primarily prior visits were limited to a few odd work or sporting events." It seemed best to leave out her visit to Declan's manor. Who knew if Fintan had some kind of grudge against him taking control of that house.


Declans apology was all but shrugged off. Why he kept apologizing for their behavior when her mother had acted like a total harpie in front of him she didn't know. If anything he should have apologized for the elf bath situation, not these odd but perfectly pleasant niceties.


"May I?" she asked but didn't wait for a response, she sat down in the chair nearest to Fintan, feeling quite at ease with them at this point. If Declan and his father were going to spend their lives engaged in some kind of civil war there was no reason she couldn't get Fintan to fall in love with her. Father's and sons were so complicated, masculinity and pride. Fathers and daughters though - there was no doubt whom always held the upper hand there in the long run.


"So, Mr. O'Dwyer, I am curious. I've never sat round a table with such a renowned duelist. My mother was Hogwarts dueling Champion three years running. Then Junior Ladies champion the first year after graduation before hanging up her dueling gloves for family. I daresay, out of anyone I've met, you may be the only person of form-ability whom has ever matched wands on the dueling field or seen her work from a professional perspective." She paused, letting her flattery marinate as she took a small bite of cake. "Is Mrs. Victoria Bennett Abercrombie as fearsome as she has convinced me she is my whole life? Or....was I just far too gullible as a child?" Her smile and tone were sweet and her question calculated but Fintan, from what little she knew, seemed like the type to lap it up.


Glancing over her shoulder at Declan she offered him the tiniest of smirks. War with his father he may but by the time their vows were exchanged she was certain to have the whole of the family eating out of the palm of her pretty little hand.

[Declan O'Dwyer]

Fintan O'Dwyer seemed quite pleased with his new partner of conversation and cracked a smile. What came next he hadn't quite anticipated. Victoria Bennett-Abercrombie was definitely a name he recognised and the woman certainly deserved some respect. He seemed to have to consider the question for a moment before allowing himself to speak.

"She has a lot of raw power and magical potential," he commented. "In fact more than I have seen in many men who have succeeded in the professional world. Quite good control with her wand as well, maybe less fluent in technique than others, but I suppose having retired so very young that makes sense."

He paused for a moment as if re-evaluating what he had said and checking that it was appropriate. "I dare say if she'd found a suitable sponsor she could have gone far." Something about the words felt almost foreign. He rarely paid others compliments, usually too absorbed in his personal story to allow others any space around him.

"If you're asking me how to defeat her in practise, she very much relies on the element of surprise and not ever having to be in the defensive. And she does this thing..." Unsure how to explain it he picked up one of the cake forks to wield just like a wand. He carefully guided it about a third of way through the shield charm wand movement before adding a little flourish. "That little frill doesn't need to be there. I've seen her do it on quite a few spells."

Across the table, Declan's grandfather pretended to go cross-eyed at the duelling talk.

"Anyway," Fintan continued, "when she does her little flourish she exposes her underarm for a couple of seconds. If you manage to wedge in there with a slicing charm she'll struggle. I don't think I've seen her cast much with her non-dominant hand."

Picking apart another person's fighting style was always fun. Having sufficiently analysed Victoria, he stuck his fork into a piece of cake he had been handed.

"So what about yourself, Farren, do you enjoy duelling? My eldest isn't interested at all, but Lorcan might be a worthwhile sparring partner."

The latest comment seemed to have Miss Selwyn slightly alarmed, though she was quick to hide the slight discomfort in her expression.

It was Declan's grandmother who felt the need to cut in. "But she's an artist!"

"And even artists can duel," Declan supplied almost despite himself. It was in everybody's interest to keep the tone lighthearted and to avoid dredging up old debates and arguments. His grandparents had never approved of his father's career. All to be said on that matter had been said already and a couple of times too many at that.

Fintan seemed to take the hint. "But, I guess now is not the time for a duel. At least not one with wands." He gave Farren a big conspiring smile.

"How about a game? You've got to be on my team. Together we will be invincible."