Veronica 'Still a Virgin' Avery (ladylessons) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-12-13 22:08:00 |
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Veronica had stopped twitching earlier. She had only meant to stop the crowds from revolting, and had wanted everyone to calm down. She understood that they were upset that they were not offering the free vaccinations to Muggleborns, but none of the Muggleborns were children, and they were less likely to be hurt by the disease. She didn't understand why Muggleborns should be a main concern of the Foundation if the young children likely wouldn't even have any exposure to the illness. After that nice black gentleman helped protect her from the crowd, everything had gone fuzzy. Veronica could remember trying to stand despite her crushed legs, and then being carried into the Foundation Centre. Healers had been on hand to take care of her, and after what seemed only like minutes -- excruciatingly painful minutes -- she was brought home. She had insisted that she didn't want to be in her room. Veronica wanted to sit up, even if she couldn't run away. She was distressed that she could not stand and move around. Whenever she was agitated or upset she needed to move. Sitting, even if it wasn't in her room, made her frustrated and worried. At least in the sitting room there was more to look at, and she could stare out the large window. Louis couldn't even amuse her, as he was still not recovered completely from his dragon pox and Veronica did not want him to chance struggling longer against the illness for her own sake. She had a book beside her couch, and a hoop for embroidery, and her writing pad. Nothing could amuse her, and so she sat, closing her eyes and sighing sadly. The Healers had set her bones, and they told her she could begin walking a little tomorrow, but her left thigh still pained her, and her right leg burned whenever she moved even the slightest bit. Veronica was half considering asking a house elf for a sleeping potion, but she hated using potions unnecessarily, and besides, her mother might be afraid that it could be harmful after all the other potions she had taken. Veronica reached over to touch the cover of her journal, wondering if she ought to let her friends know that she was fine. With a sudden shock she realized she would be unable to meet Astra to decorate Aquila's home. She had several boxes of trim that she had wanted to put up for him. She could, possibly, charm a chair to move for her and go along with some of the elves, but Veronica had so looked forward to running about and making everything perfect for him herself. And was she to write Aquila? What exactly did one say to the man who courted her when one had been slightly trampled? She chewed on her lip and opened her journal as she tried to decide what she ought to say. It was then that, with exceptional timing, Aquila entered the sitting room, looking a little on the harried side. His face was creased with worry, and underlying that, anger. Veronica's mother had let him through the Floo in the other room and his trousers retained some of the ash and soot he could not be bothered to brush off in his haste to be sure, with his own eyes as witnesses, that Veronica was all right. When he saw her alive and well if rather bored (or so it appeared to him), he let out a long breath, wondering if his mother had passed on some sort of hereditary worry, for he found so often now he had many imaginings of harm to his friends and family that were disproportionate to reality. Perhaps it was because he had seen first-hand (and even by his hand) what harm this war could cause. But Veronica was all right, it seemed, though the sheer indignancy at the idea of a lady - especially this one - being trampled by an uncivilised mob could not be quenched, and though his expression softened some, his mouth and eyes carried a tension. He strode forward and pulled up a chair beside her. "How are you feeling, then?" he asked, feeling helpless except to see to it that she was taken care of. Her temporary problem solved by his arrival, Veronica began to stand out of habit, wanting to move forward to greet him. She cringed for a moment as her less temporary problem reared it's angry head at her -- preventing her from standing. She surpressed the look of pain as best she could, smiling at Aquila as he came closer. "I didn't know to expect you," she said, suddenly wondering if her hair was still very out of place. She tucked the blanket over her legs as subtly as she could. She did not want a chance that Aquila could see them if the blanket somehow slipped. Even with the potions they were bruised and discoloured. She wore a dress under the blanket, of course, but Veronica did not want to take any chances. "I'm fine," she said, even if she still felt anxious and nervous after the attack. Aquila looked terribly worried and she felt bad for causing him any anxiety. Feeling it on her own was enough. "Someone told you, I suppose," she said. She didn't know what else to say. Veronica looked down at her hands in her lap. "No, I merely sensed it." His tone was sarcastic, but not cutting. Indeed, he smiled, relieved to find her well enough to be sitting and talking with him. He sighed and regarded her for a long moment (though not long enough to be improper). "I am glad to see that you are all right, at least, though your resilience doesn't make the event any less awful. It's truly terrible that this happened. I've heard of mobs and riots getting out of hand - you'll remember Tinworth in the papers- but to imagine a lady such as yourself being trampled -" He shook his head and sighed. "What have the Healers said?" His sarcastic tone unnerved her for a moment, but with his smile she relaxed. She made a little face at him, and found herself not unwilling to look at him. "I wouldn't be surprised if your talents extended even that far, Aquila," she said, blushing a bit as she made another rather weak attempt at being coquettish. "Oh yes, I am just fine. Rather fine," said Veronica, as her right leg began to twitch a little. She slowly reached out a hand to put on her knee, hoping that he wouldn't notice the movement of the blanket. It wasn't especially painful, just gave her a burning sensation, and so offered him another smile. She played with the edge of her blanket with her left hand, looking down at it for a moment. "I didn't realize things would escalate this quickly," she said quietly. "I only wanted to assure them that we only intended to do good, and request that they leave so that the women and children could come in without any worry. The children were crying in the centre. They thought that people were angry at them. It wasn't fair at all." She hadn't thought she'd fall. And then it was confusing. She didn't think anyone intended to hurt her at all. She shivered for a moment, remembering it. 'I.. Well, things did get out of hand very quickly." She was glad that Narcissa had been able to keep the other ladies safe. "Oh, they say that I should try to walk late tomorrow afternoon. I am not to exert myself too much." She wanted to scowl at that, but instead she kept her expression bright and cheerful. "And so I am afraid I can do very little but sit all day." "It was good of you to try, at least, for the childrens' sake." He sighed. "But people in large groups become irrational very quickly, as you experienced." He pursed his lips in displeasure. "And what can we really expect of the lower-class masses but violence and stupidity? I can only pity them, when it comes down to it." He smiled, then. "Though I pity you more, cooped up in here like a flightless bird. But you'll be on your feet again soon, running after Louis and baking and all that. Oh!" And he grinned now. "My father would like to pass on his delight at receiving your biscuits." Well, okay, his father hadn't asked him to do anything of the sort, but he thought Veronica should know her efforts weren't wasted. "I don't think I'll try something like that again," Veronica admitted. She had wanted to take care of the children, but surely it wasn't worth her neck breaking. She'd have to find out who it was who had helped her and thank him. She gave Aquila a weak smile, although it grew when he mentioned her father. Her cheeks flushed again and she nodded happily. "I'm very glad," she said. "He sent a cordial note, which was very sweet of him." Veronica eyed the piano in front of her, and frowned a little. "I wish that I were able to take a walk with you again, or at least play." She still wasn't very good, but she had managed to relax when playing the piano with Aquila, and she would have liked to try again. He didn't make her feel like a dunderhead on the instrument. She bit her lip and then shyly looked at him. "Your sister tells me that you are an excellent singer as well as a pianist." Aquila paused for a moment, blinking at her. He coloured very slightly, as if caught doing something rather embarrassing. He was not one to broadcast the fact that he could sing well, for though he was a social creature he did not very often enjoy being the centre of attention. His mother had always encouraged him to play and to sing at family functions and even sometimes while visiting others, but he had not done so in quite some time - not, in fact, since she had died. An irrational, mournful part of him wondered if he could still carry a tune after all of these years. "I, er." He stumbled over his words, which was not something he often did. "Apparently, Astra's been spilling family secrets. I'll have to have a word with her." He gave Veronica a taut, embarrassed sort of smile. "I can sing, er, that is, I have been known to sing from time to time." Veronica couldn't help but notice the reddening in his cheeks, and she dipped her head a little, leaning closer to him. "Please don't say anything to her that would make her upset with me," she said. She eyed him carefully. Veronica was very curious to hear him sing. His musical talent impressed her, especially because she had so little of it. "Mon Aquila," she said, trying valiantly to not blush as she said the name, "Would you play and sing for me?" "I was joking," he responded quietly, without looking at her. He fidgeted a little, pulled somewhat out of his comfort zone. He resisted the overwhelming urge to say something juvenile, like "Do I have to?" He turned, regarded her expectant face, and sighed very softly. He tried not to appear too put-upon. And indeed, he thought as he stood, adjusting his sleeves, he had a request from an injured lady to sing. He could afford her that much, seeing as he could not afford her so many other things she deserved, like the right to be seen with him in public. He perched on the piano bench and turned again to look at her. "What shall it be, then? Any requests?" He smiled again, and though it appeared a little nervous and strained, it was not entirely false. Veronica felt a bit worried as he fidgeted, and wondered if she had somehow upset him. She wanted to make him happy, and so when he looked even a little put upon she got nervous. "You do not have you," she said, suddenly feeling very mean for requesting something of him like that. Perhaps there was a reason why he did not want to sing in front of her. "Only if you want to," she said, feeling a bit worried and looking up at him. "Really, Aquila." She looked back down at her lap. He took a breath and made an effort to clear the tension from his face. He was being ridiculous, and Veronica, with all her womanly ability to perceive (and react negatively) to masculine emotion, was now upset. A little. He cleared his throat. "It is only that I have not sung in quite a while and I fear I am a little out of practice." He gave her a small grin. "You can understand that." He turned to the piano and layed his fingers on the keys, played a few notes as he thought, and frowned before settling into a tune. It was very old, and he had learned it very young. It was a little Welsh song that he appreciated for its poetry above anything else, and as he sang in his soft baritone he wondered if he ought to substitute the ashgrove for his little fen. For there was he left, of late, with all of his ponderings. "The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly 'tis speaking, The harp through it playing has language for me; Whenever the light through its branches is breaking, A host of kind faces is gazing on me. The friends of my childhood again are before me, Each step wakes a mem'ry, as freely I roam; With soft whispers laden, its leaves rustle o'er me; The ash grove, the ashgrove alone is my home. My lips smile no more, my heart loses its lightness, No dream of the future my spirit can cheer; I only can brood on the past and its brightness, The dead I have mourned are again living here. From ev'ry dark nook they press forward to meet me; I lift up my eyes to the broad leafy dome, And others are there, looking downward to greet me; The ash grove, the ash grove alone is my home." Veronica admired Aquila openly as he played, smiling and tapping her thin fingers against her lap. She closed her eyes at a few parts, and let the music swirl around her and calm her. But when she began to focus on the words it made her sad. She could hear in his voice that he quite possibly felt the same way that the writer of the song had, and as he had chosen the song by himself, she knew that it was very likely that it represented the theme of his mood. "That was beautiful," she said, clapping for him and smiling brightly as he sang the song. She felt very sad for him, but she didn't want to let on so obviously. Veronica was determined to make his little home much happier. She'd beg her mother to go with her if she had to, and she'd even include her father in the conspiracy. Veronica couldn't imagine celebrating the season without brilliant decorations, and she hoped that she could lift Aquila's mood. "You sing even better than I expected," she said. "Thank you so very much." He paused with his hands hovering over the keys before dropping his hands slowly into his lap. He looked over at her almost shyly. "I apologise for picking such a sad song," he said quietly. "It was the first one that came to mind." He swung his legs neatly over the bench so that he was facing her. It made him feel quite warm that she could be pleased so easily by a song, and he smiled again. "I must thank you for the use of your piano. I can only imagine how horribly out of tune the one at my father's home is." "Don't think of it," Veronica said. She smiled at him, glad that she no longer felt the overwhelming nervousness around him that she once had. "And you will be there soon, won't you?" Veronica said. No one had said anything about how everything was going to be set right. She wanted to continue to believe, but sometimes it seemed dreadfully far away. Even though Aquila was courting her, she knew that they would never be married before his name was cleared. Her father might allow a quiet courtship for the sake of their security, and the bloodlines, but Veronica knew that a quiet marriage was a different thing. People might suspect impropriety, and Veronica never wanted to give anyone the chance to think that of her. "Your name will be cleared soon, won't it?" "It will," he agreed. "I have no doubt of that. And then we won't have to worry about hiding, or keeping secrets, or being trampled in riots." He shook his head and sighed. His eyes scanned the wall for a clock, which he double-checked with his own pocket-watch, a little silver thing. "I'm afraid I have to leave. Astra's demanded I have dinner at her house, and who am I to refuse food and - ah- what did she call it? Masculine bonding time with Marius." His lips quirked in amusement. "Do forgive me - I hope to return again soon, when you're feeling better." Veronica felt a little shortchanged at his short response regarding his name being cleared. Of course, she knew she shouldn't expect specifics. It was not his place to give them, very likely, but she couldn't help but wish that he could reassure her even more passionately. Veronica felt her spirits drop a little, but she still continued to smile at him. "Oh, is she?" she said. Veronica was already a little sad that she had to cancel her plans with Astra. She would have to wait to decorate his home. She appreciated that Astra had gone to the trouble for her, and it had come to nothing since she had been so foolish. "You are always welcome here, Aquila," she said. |