“That sounds perfect.” She hadn’t eaten much that day, so a glass of wine might actually help if heights were going to be involved with whatever Patrick had planned.
When she was younger her father had made each of them learn how to fly, for two reasons. First, though he didn’t expect any of his daughters to be quidditch players, he thought it was a necessary skill to have in case of emergency, like learning how to swim. Second, he knew they taught flying at Durmstrang and how incompetent those who weren’t capable looked. Dagnas were never allowed to look out of their depth.
After finishing her first-year class at Durmstrang, Hilda rarely flew, and if she did, she never went too high. She was fine flying to the tops of buildings, but she didn’t care for anything above that.
“And I’m fine with heights,” she lied. Hilda knew she wasn’t doing herself any favours by lying, but she didn’t want to hinder whatever Patrick had planned. Besides, if she ended up being scared, Hilda was sure Patrick wouldn’t mind holding her to make her feel safe.
It wasn’t long before Betsy brought over their drinks, still refusing to speak to Hilda. Not that Hilda minded, there was far more interesting conversation just across the table from her.
She wasn’t sure if it was the conversation or the wine, but time flew by. Patrick recounted narrowly escaping mermaids in the Black Lake while Hilda listened, waiting on every word, before he turned the conversation on her, somehow getting her to talk about her family. Not yet sure what his opinions on blood purity and the dark arts were, Hilda stuck to lighter topics. She’d just finished telling him about how she and her siblings used to run around the estate gardens, pretending to be famous duellers and princesses, when she realized she’d already finished her wine.
In no time at all, Betsy was over to grab their glasses from them, not so subtly giving off the impression that she wanted them to leave. Hilda followed Patrick’s lead, put on her three-quarter-length coat, and made her way towards the door. Though she usually fluffed up the fur trim of her coat at night, once she was outside she found the temperature hadn’t dropped as much was expecting it to.
She turned to Patrick. “So, where to now?”
Hilda was undeniably a lady and Patrick felt amazed that not only was she talking to him, but that she was willing to go along with him to see the sights. It made Patrick feel rather proud of himself that he managed to catch the interest of such a worldly lady and he couldn't help but be fascinated as he listened to her stories. She still sounded like a fairy princess to him, a child from a world of magic, and Patrick couldn't erase the sense of wonder that fell over him at the idea even though he himself had magic.
There was something charming about the fact that she still had some of the same experiences growing up that he did. It seemed that whether they were born knowing they had magic or not, all children played between and there was an odd feeling of fondness in knowing that this beautiful woman ran around as a child pretending to be a princess when she so clearly was one. Patrick had played pretend as a child, too, and it gave him delight to be able to show her some of the places that he'd dreamed of as a child, the places that he'd believed were magic before he even knew he possessed such a thing.
As they finished they drinks and made to leave, Patrick made sure to grab the door for her and debating on if he should tell her. "Do you really want to know, or do you want to be surprised?" He asked, offering her his hand. "It's faster if we apparate and don't worry, I promise I won't let you get splinched."
He didn't actually know if she would trust him to apparate them both, but it would be the faster way to get to the cliffs since even if you traveled by car, the cliffs were nearly an hour away. If she wasn't comfortable with it, at least Patrick had a back-up plan in the form of the abbey, although looking at Hilda didn't much make him think of old ruins and crumbling castles. No, she deserved to see something made up of natural beauty and Patrick wiggled his fingers at her in invitation.
