Liliana couldn’t care less about what Theodore or any other suitable wizard her age had planned out for their future and certainly had no designs to share her future desires with them—something she had made abundantly clear to Theodore, at least, one night during prefect rounds whilst pushing him up against a bit of wall between the Transfiguration classroom and an old suit of armour. But standing there, sandwiched between her mother and father, as they chatted with her father’s business partners and their eligible sons, Liliana’s thoughts wandered to only one wizard who was likely having the time of his life on his much needed family vacation to Japan.
“Isn’t that so, Lili, dear?” she heard her mother’s tinkling voice say with a smile, the smile faltering slightly as she turned her head, diamond dewdrops clinging lightly against her perfectly coiffured hair. “Liliana?” she prompted again, lightly brushing the sixteen year olds arm to get her attention.
The spidery touch alerted Liliana back to the conversation and in an unladylike response she replied with “Huh?” Her parents exchanged a Look and Liliana smiled guilty when she saw that the less than appropriate behaviour had elicited a strange response from the family her parents were talking to. “J’suis trop fatiguée,” she murmured under her breath to her mother, turning polite yet apologetic eyes to the guests she was meant to be talking to. “I’m so sorry,” she said in that demure manner she knew was expected of young ladies, the kind of voice she had heard others witches who her parents had, in no uncertain terms, indicated were to be Liliana’s role model for how to behave in public, speak in. “I’m just so completely exhausted from my travels here,” pause, smile, look down, look back up. It was a routine that she had made Atlas sit through with her as she practiced and practiced again to put her brash exterior on hold. “Would you mind repeating the question?”
She felt fake and she felt trapped, and she hated it. Liliana had not yet figured out how to balance all the parts of her life, she was too excitable and threw herself into everything she liked to do which was perfectly fine for her to do at school, far away from the scrutinizing eyes of her parents, but here where she was now expected to be on their arm at all the parties until dismissed it was completely different. She had been casting a longing glance to the wide open door that opened up onto gardens into which all her cousins and their dates had run off to earlier in the night, having escaped the parental barrage of questions of how business was going. Only she, Isaac, and Joseph were still in school and of the three Joseph was considered to be the most successful—he was already betrothed to an appropriate witch, he was therefore guaranteed a spot in his father’s business. He was completely set. Even the others had figured out their lives. But she…she was the problem child.
“I enjoy my schooling at Sonora very much,” she replied politely, thinking that the schooling was not the only thing there that she enjoyed, but pleased to be able to have one secret to herself amongst these people. “The professors are very well educated and I think they do their best. There are incidents of all sorts at all the schools, so in all the Satori issue really wasn’t that bad in comparison. Besides that, we haven’t had a serious Quidditch injury in all my time there where they are quite common elsewhere.” Her last comment was somewhat loaded considering the young wizard standing with his parents had only earlier that year fallen off his broom and broken his arm. Sure enough, he flushed lightly but Liliana pretended to take no notice, as though she hadn’t even known Jules Simonau had even played Quidditch in the first place.
“Jules plays Quidditch, Liliana, did you know that?” her mother asked, working quickly to cover for her daughter’s careless comment and in turn, Liliana shook her head no. Turning wide, impressed eyes onto the flushing wizard. “Liliana used to play too,” she continued. “But when she was elected prefect, she quit to make more time for her studies, we’re so proud of her for that.”
Studies were something that was extremely appropriate for a young witch to be involved in. Flying around quickly on brooms at breakneck speeds with wizards was not. So Liliana simply hadn’t informed her parents of her Quidditch promotion and allowed them to believe what they liked, refraining to correct them when they spoke erroneously. Besides, with Quidditch canceled that year in favour of the challenges, she didn’t feel as though she really were Quidditch captain at all. Surely playing recreationally with old teammates didn’t count as continuing to play Quidditch?
“Is that so?” Jules asked, showing interest in something for what seemed like the first time that evening. Liliana wanted to roll her eyes but she bit her lip instead to prevent herself from committing the rude gesture. Jules was likely one of those horrid wizards who thought a Quidditch playing witch was ‘cute’ but nothing to take seriously. “What position did you play?”
“Keeper,” she replied, returning to bite down harder on her lip after the admittance. “I was Assistant Captain last year, but this year I’m leading one of the challenge teams in this year long challenge event that the professors are holding.” While it wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t the whole truth either, but since it wasn’t untrue, she didn’t bother to clarify that Quidditch had been canceled and that was the reasoning behind her switch in authority.
“That certainly sounds like a safe position,” Jules continued. Right on the mark, Liliana thought to herself rather bitterly. It was too bad too, because Jules was rather good looking and she thought that had he kept his mouth closed she wouldn’t have minded spending some time with him that evening. However, as she cast a casual glance around the room, she noticed that the majority of the younger people had already decided upon their entertainment for the night which meant she was given the choice of either Jules or the ever hopeful Etienne. With a sigh, she excused herself politely from the conversation and signaled to Etienne to meet her in the gardens.
Liliana took a careful turn about the room before moving subtly outside. She should have outmanoeuvred her parents earlier on in the evening, but for some reason she had still been casting hope that the all French, pureblood affair would have extended it’s invitation to various other families of lesser statue. A spidery hand grasped Liliana’s arm just as she made it to the door, however, and thereby Etienne’s waiting arms—she could see his ridiculously shiny shoes peeking around the corner of the wall and she sighed impatiently, wondering who it was that dared keep her from satisfaction.
The hand, as it turned out, belonged to Myrtille Dautin, Vetil’s quivery betrothed. Something about the girl’s nature irritated Liliana in a way that she caused her to be frustrated with herself. Myrtille had done absolutely nothing to her. Growing up, Myrtille had been the very quiet, almost too ladylike witch with a china doll-like aura that had always made Liliana afraid to get too close on the off chance she broke. Now that they were both teenagers, Myrtille had maintained her slim, china doll figure. “Myrtille,” Liliana said, slightly surprised that the more timid witch had worked up the courage to do what Liliana had always half-expected her to do since Vetil and Myrtille’s parents had announced their engagement. “Can I help you?”
The mousey witch in question flushed and shook her head quickly, her cheeks turning a ferocious shade of red as her grip loosened around Liliana’s arm.
“Okay then,” Liliana turned to go, but Myrtille tugged at her arm again. The other witch had always been shy in a manner that frankly irritated Liliana. It was something in the nervous way she always hovered without ever doing anything. “Look,” Liliana nearly shouted in a harsh whisper, taking a sinister sort of delight in the way Myrtille cowered before her. “If you need something then tell me because I have some things I need to attend to…”
Myrtille nodded her head and glanced around furtively before motioning for Liliana to come closer, and closer still “You’ve…been with with Théo, right?”
Unashamed, Liliana simply shrugged. “It depends on what you mean by ‘been,’” she replied, feeling quite good about herself as Myrtille flushed further in embaressment. “If you’re asking whether we’ve slept together, then the answer is no. Your precious Théo lost his virginity to some bourgeoise tramp last Christmas. But we’ve done just about everything else.” The quickly reddening face of Myrtille going far redder than Liliana had ever thought possible almost made up for her slip in noblesse ettiquette. But Myrtille didn’t seem to mind. In fact, if Liliana wasn’t mistaken, the short, breathy nature of Myrtille’s frustrating sighs and the bright yet darkened blue, blue eyes indicated that Myrtille was not quite the prude that she would have everyone believe.
“C-can you t-teach me?” Myrtille’s next request surprised Liliana in a way she had never thought possible from the normally quiet witch.
“Teach you?” Liliana asked, incredulously, to buy herself more time. “What do you want me to teach you exactly?” She half hoped that Myrtille was only kidding (not that she thought Myrtille had ever kidded in her life as up until this moment she had always been a perfectly nice, pleasant, but boring witch). Yet the other half of her wanted to hear the words come out of Myrtille’s mouth itself.
“Yes, teach me,” Myrtille repeated, this time a little more staunchly. It seemed as though catching Liliana off guard had given Myrtille the kind of courage she’d needed to make her request firmer. “Teach me everything about pleasing a wizard. I don’t know anything, not even how to…to…k-kiss, and I don’t know what I’ll do come my wedding night with Théo. I just can’t fall short of the bourgeoise witches. I know how the adults work. If I can’t satisfy him then he’ll take a mistress… Maybe he’ll do that even if I can satisfy h-him, but…Lili—” (here, Liliana flinched, disliking Myrtille’s impassioned use of her familiar name) “—I have to at least try and you have to help me!”
It took Liliana a moment to realize what it was Myrtille was asking from her and when realization finally hit, she simpl raised an eyebrow despite the utter confusion and horror that rose up inside her. “You’re going to have to get me a whole lot drunked if that’s indeed a serious question, Myrtille,” Liliana replied dryly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I can see Etienne’s annoyingly polished shoes gleaming in the porch light and wouldn’t you know it? I think they’re waiting for me!” She smiled a kind of saucy, sarcastic smile and swiftly brushed past Myrtille to the horribly familiar comfort of Etienne.
Myrtille’s giggles of: “They are rather shiny, aren’t they,” were the last Liliana heard from the direction of the party before Etienne dragged her off to a lovely deserted corner and they lost themselves in a flurry of fumbling, practised hands and tongues.
It was at the next party, after Liliana had already downed half a bottle of champagne and had dipped off to make she she didn’t look/appear too tipsy, that she head the lock of the girls’ powder room click behind her. Turning around with a sense of dread, Liliana saw Myrtille perched nicely on one of the dressing tables, the back of her perfectly coiffured hair reflecting in the large mirror behind her. The other witch was pocketing her wand and sitting next to an array of different bottles. “I didn’t know what you liked,” Myrtille said apologetically, though se did look quite determined. “So I swiped a bunch of stuff but as it turns out…you don’t seem quite so picky…”
Liliana shrugged in response—Myrtille wasn’t too far off the mark there, but the situation still made her uncomfortable. “I think you misunderstood me, Myrtille. I’m just not into witches like that, sorry. I could ask Isaac to give you a hand if you like? He’s…ugh, as I’ve heard…” Liliana paused for a moment, not liking to think about her cousin’s extracurricular activities. “Quite good with his hands.”
“I think you misunderstood me,” Myrtille countered. “I want you to teach me. You’ve been with Théo. You know what he likes, what he doesn’t like. I’m ready to learn, Bannister, and you’re going to teach me.”
Where had the shy, timid girl of the years before gone? Liliana did not recognize the bold, determined witch who sat in front of her at all. There was something in the twitch of her lip that showed Myrtille was, perhaps, not as comfortable taking charge as she was portraying herself, but the rest was utterly foreign, down the to coquettish way Myrtille had her gown exposing her slim, perfectly sculpted leg, the garter that rose high on her thigh peeking out from underneath the layers of lace. It was a position that Liliana herself had seen some of the younger bourgeoise witches use when they were invited to mingle at a noblesse party. “I think,” Liliana said, coughing politely in order to hide the smile that threatened to rise to her lips. “That you already have an idea of what you’re doing and, I really ought to be going…”
She turned around and pressed her hand to the door, desperate to find someone else—anyone else, to talk to.