The notion of love was never something that Saoirse MacMillan subscribed to. While her sisters were always fawning after the cutest person in a room with dimbles and a boyish grin, Sersh was left rolling her eyes and burying her nose back in the latest Muggle novel she was devouring. Love, in Sershâs mind felt dangerous. Often a fearless creature, there was little that scared the girl with the adventure heart and ink stained palms. While sheâd gladly stand tall in the face of adversity, open arms and vulnerable hearts was always something she struggled with. Emotions exploded from Sersh like firecrackers. With a heart warn on her sleeve, there was little the witch wouldnât share and tell with just about anyone she met. Still the notion of love terrified her. Loosing yourself in someone else only to risk them leaving in a fleeting moment was daunting in a way she couldnât express. For a girl that toyed between the adventures of the future and the comforting nostalgia of the past, love seemed to play with the fine line of each. She understood love, of course she did. She held love proudly and boldly for her family and friends. But that romance that sheâd read about so often in stories, sheâd never had the desire to seek it for her own. Maybe she just wasnât built that way, or maybe it was her thirst for life and independence that stopped her from wishing for anything that could instead hold her back from dreams of towering cities and endless written words. Watching all these people try to find love from glances and ball gowns was in Sershâs mind too superficial and if anything arrogant. If love was like magic like her sister so graciously claimed, how could anyone begin to think they could find the stuff of stars in strangers?Â
Dismissing her thoughts with another words of wonderment from Sybil the witch grinned at her friend before taking another sip of her drink. Only to then be met with the appearance of none of than her best friend and partner in crime; Augustus Abbott. âAinât the gentlemen of the night supposed to me asking that ay?â Saoirse noted, gesturing at her outfit with a smirk pulled on her features. âMe fine lady, let me offer ye this as a gesture of me promise to ye this sun light evening on the puristest driffelest night of the year. If ever there were a person to be stuck with, Iâd be glad it be ye and Iâm sorry in advance if I make me cry by steppinâ on ye wee toes. Iâll be ye partner of dance if ye, Augustus Abbott, do solemnly pinkie promise to not suck the face of a purist twat tonight. Ye reward, a bottle of the finest elf whiskey a humble blonde can buy ye and-â Saoirse spoke with an air of teasing playfulness as she too got to one knee and took of one of her most worn rings, a golden band with interlocking hands. Presenting it to him with a dramatic bow and a bright grin, Sersh offered it out to him with a warm smile and a quirk of a brow. âThis token of our engagement this evening and to always being best mates. Our sure our parents would flip their rockers with glee. So Abbott, what do ye say to an adventure and gettinâ absolutely feckinâ banjaxed ay? We can show these purists assholes what real dancinâ looks like.â
Clutching his heart in a feigned offence, Gus rose back to his feet. âColour me humiliated, I had full intention of being the gentleman this evening.â Although, he suspected that not many others pictured him as a gentleman tonight. He caught the dismissive gaze of his uncle, who seemed shocked and dismayed at the legitimate Abbott son showing up in nothing more than a corset top and black trousers. Augustus was sure to get a slap in the wrist later on from his grandmother, but that was one of the perks of being his fatherâs son. Nothing Augustus could do would matter much, his fatherâs actions had already cemented Albert Abbotâs strand of the family into turmoil. Augustus didnât have to give into the false pretences that these galas promoted. He could simply have fun and relax with his friends. The people who mattered most to him in this world. âMacMillian, you need to learn some pureblood etiquette. What would Fionn say?â Gus tutted, with a playful roll of his eyes. âWe must be on the look out for our perfect match for our dear families, I donât want poor Orlaith or Celia getting the backlash for our misbehaviour. âÂ
In reality, any of his friends or family matching in this manner was a nightmare. They deserved love, not duty. Augustusâ whole existence was a tragic tale of how duty over love never pans out as expected. âNo purist twats, tonight.â He agreed, trying to shake all memory of his earlier encounter with Rabastan. âAt the moment, I think Iâd rather snog the elf who made the whiskey...â Accepting the ring with a gracious smile, he flicked back a strand of his long hair. âTo always being best friends, and the best dancers these boring gits have ever seen.â He grinned, taking the hand which Saoirse had previously extended to offer him the ring. Pulling her into a waltz position, his arms clumsy and balance staggered. The force of his pull almost had Saoirse banging right into his chest. Until Gus managed to steady them both with a hearty laugh. âNow, would you like a lesson in the refined dancing I had to learn in the dark days of living in Godrics? Merlin knows, you need it. â