Weekend With the Grays - Day 1: Back at Winbourne
Here we go! Thanks to @endlessly-cursed for organising this lovely event, and for the wonderful character of Prim! This also features a mention of Malcolm, who belongs to @gaygryffindorgal, Helen, one of @camillejeaneshphm 's wonderful characters, and the mention of one of their others....
A small black carriage being pulled along by a single Abraxan thundered through the trees, the mighty stallion seemingly knowing where to go on instinct. Inside the carriage, a young man with bright scarlet hair tinkered and fidgeted with a collection of gears and cogs with a thin golden screwdriver. The woman sitting next to him placed her hand on one of his own, hers just about larger than his.
"Dear, it'll be alright, I promise." Helen Graham said to her husband, smiling down at him. She too had red hair, though hers was more orange. "We're here to celebrate, not to mourn or worry." she reminded him, her voice still retaining a Louisiana accent.
Fred sighed, leaning back on his seat. "I know, I know...I just wonder if he knows that."
"He's not your responsibility." Helen said, sharply. "If he does show up tonight, he knows full well that he's expected to be Merry."
"That's just the thing, though." Fred put the gizmo he was working on back in his pocket as the trees started to clear. "The grief hasn't dimmed his wits. He knows he's being unreasonable, but it's as if he physically can't help it. It must be driving him mad."
"Well, maybe this would do him some good. If Prim can't get him smiling again, no one can." Helen declared, as the huge estate very quickly appeared out their windows.
"I do wish you wouldn't jinx it like that, dear." Fred said, chuckling in spite of himself.
"I'll jinx you in a minute. I'm not having you both moping about, alright?" Helen said, a smirk on her face as the Abraxan pulled in outside Winbourne.
The pair got out, Fred checking the time on a gold and scarlet pocket watch of his own design. "Just on time, I think." He observed, putting it back in his pocket.
Helen leant forward and look at it before he stuffed it away, noticing a small hourglass at its center. "Don't tell me you put one of your Time-Turners in there?" she asked, incredulously.
"It's not a Time-Turner...it's also a Time-Teller, see?" Fred replied, that full grin returning to his face once more. "Come on, we ought to find our hosts."
They walked up the steps towards the gates, Fred pointing out things that caught his eye as they moved through the snow, Helen doing very much the same. It helped that Helen was able to use her Ancient Magic to keep the snow off of them, and Fred was able to slow down the snowflakes so they were suspended in time, very slowly completing their descent. Soon, though, they made it to the front doors, and the one on the left opened to reveal the Viscountess of Winbourne, Primrose Gray herself.
"Prim!" Fred exclaimed on impulse, earning him a raised eyebrow and laugh from his wife. At this point, of course, they had all known each other for years, and were used to Fred saying what came from the heart almost instantly. "...I mean, ah, Good evening, Lady Primrose. It truly is a pleasure to see you."
Prim smiled at the both of them. "Good evening, Fred, Helen. It is always wonderful to see you both. How was the journey? Not too snowy?"
Helen smiled a little and nodded. "Not for us, of course, or our Abraxan." she said, gesturing to the large horse. "A gift from Baroness Osada. She's got...quite a few equines back in Poland."
"I'm sure she does." Prim nodded, looking back briefly into the warm interior of the building. "Well, please, come right in, Malcolm will show you where you can put your coats."
Helen, who to this day had not acclimated to the British winter, nodded rapidly before following Malcolm inside. Fred took a step forward too, but paused. Prim stopped as well, looking over to him. "Something the matter, Fred?"
In his years dealing with it, Fred had found that he had developed almost a sixth sense when it came to telling where ancient magic was nearby. And he felt a very familiar source of it walking through the snow behind him. "...I do believe that's Mr Doherty approaching the gates."
Fred watched as Prim stepped outside, still a little shell-shocked that Atticus had even bothered to show up. Then again, at times the man now shuffling through the night looked like a stranger. His green eyes lacked that brilliant shine he had whenever he came up with a brilliant idea (or any idea for that matter), and his clothes seemed to flow around him, shifting in and out of the darkness. But what really surprised Fred was the fact that on his best friend's head, covering his jet-black hair, was a hat.
A Hat. If it were any other gentleman of the period, nobody would have batted an eye. In fact, it was what gentleman were expected to wear. Yet, here he was, in a hat, walking into Winbourne. Hell must have been as cold as it was outside that night. Fred wasn't sure what to do, but perhaps that was why he wasn't the one hosting. Atticus looked up at Fred and Prim, his expression unreadable. Lady Primrose kept the door held open. "Good evening, Atticus," she said, as the wind howled, the moon appearing briefly in between the clouds. "Welcome to Winbourne. Please, come in, you look frozen, poor thing."
Atticus blinked, clearly not having expected that. Fred recognised the expression now. It was the look he'd always give Lillian whenever she caught him out on a flaw in his logic. "...Thank you, Lady Primrose." he said, almost out of social etiquette. Good evening to you, too." And with that, he was up the stairs and walking into the house. Fred came in afterwards, followed by Prim. In a weird way, he had almost expected the cold to follow Atticus through into the house, but with Prim and Malcolm showing them to a cloakroom to drop off their cloaks and bags, Fred felt a small amount of warmth returning to him.
He looked over to his best friend. Maybe he felt it too.
