Merry Christmas PV FIN

The house was beautiful, and Eris would definitely enjoy it. However, Eris Fawley would not be attending the Bishop's Christmas party, even though she cared deeply about Rhea. Eris was currently at the Harringtom family home, with her best friend in the whole world. This deeply upset her grandparents, the man who was used to always getting his way, Adrian Fawley himself and his silent wife, Demetra who seemed to come alive at the prospect of going to a gala with her favorite side of the family. The day of preparations at the Fawley home had been cheerier than usual, as Christmas carols wafted out of the magical radio and Adrian showed a rare display of love towards his wife, even stopping to spin her around during one of the more bawdy songs. The two Fawleys, however, would be visiting the party without their granddaughter. Even howlers hadn't got Eris Fawley to join the festivities, as the stubborn child had refused to leave Adam's home, which had made Adrian extremely angry. Demetra, meanwhile, had secretly been proud of her granddaughter for having a friendship that was much more important than her family and the anger that Eris would have been daft to assume Adrian wouldn't direct at her for disobeying a direct order.

Demetra Fawley looked resplendent in a dress of deep purple, and her husband in dress robes of deep blue, bordering on black. The two strutted into the venue, Adrian walking straight to Aaron to join the conversation, while Demetra glided through the manor, putting hand-picked gifts in the stockings of Rhea and Morgan. for, even if Rhea did not know her, Morgan was a darling member of Demetra's family and Rhea was her daughter. The gift in Aaron's stocking was just a gold dragot, the American wizarding gold. The humor behind the gift was that it was money, which was all Aaron seemed to want. However, he wouldn't be able to use the American money. Lips curving up into a smile, the Fawley matron spun around in her skirts and went hunting for the more savory members of her extended family.

Done depositing presents into the stockings, Demetra glided over to her niece and opened her mouth, falling silent at the mention of Aurelie and the sight of the Beauxmonts. They were here, in the Bishop family house? Remembering the unbreakable vow she had made to never speak a word about the family secrets, Demetra went pale-faced at the sight of the Bishop's largest secret. Listening patiently for a moment, Demetra followed Morgan away and lead her to the refreshments table after the conversation. Her voice was silent, as she grabbed a firewhiskey and downed it. For an old woman, she was talented at chugging drinks. Slamming the glass down on the table, Demetra's voice was a near whisper.

"Why are they here? What is Aaron planning? Does he know about her? Demetra asked, eyes scanning the room. Only, she was not looking at the beautiful decorations of the esteemed manor home. Rather, she was looking at the group of men talking about business and the two women's husbands, apparently oblivious to the hustle and bustle of the ballroom and the grandeur that surrounded her. When one was accustomed to so much beauty, it was easy to forgo and ignore it in the face of pressing matters, even though a lesser woman would have stopped her frantic worrying to glance at the glimmering lights and shining splendor.

She was looking so intently upon the two men that she hardly noticed when the door swung open and the mutters started. A wand had flung the house elves away and flung the doors open. The wand itself looked sinister, gnarled and managed roots twining around the black wood. If the wand wasn't inclination enough of who might be wielding it, the shriek of Demetra Fawley was warning enough, as her eyes widened and she reached for the arm of her niece, wrapping her bony hand around Morgan's wrist with a haggard breath of shock, inhaling deeply.

The other Fawley's face paled, as Adrian Fawley turned towards Aaron and took a step back, his own wand being pulled out as the crowd fell silent. The man with salt and pepper hair, the man who was always prepared for everything, looked confused and betrayed. Running a hand through his hair, the wood of his wand slapping against his forehead, Adrian glowered at the form of the woman.

She stalked in, opulent in a dress of dark black that fell around her in beautiful layers, almost covering the small girl with dark hair and wide eyes. Jane Rowle had entered the building, and she moved with predatorial grace. Her first move was to scan and see if her errant daughter was in the building, but not finding any trace of Eris Fawley, she simply smirked at Adrian and Demetra with the air of one who could care less about her crimes or the family she could have been part of, in a different world where her mental health was not such a pressing matter. Jane Rowle seemed insane. There was a gleam in her eye that was not of this world, and the look on her face was beautiful but edged with insanity and a lack of lucidity.

"I'm sorry about your son. Darling Luca's brain has been fried, I heard. Wouldn't have happened if not for your insolence. I do daresay that vermin like your own family deserves such pain, what with your vagrant abuse of magic and power. Nonetheless, you shan't fear for the purity and safety of the true glory of purebloods anymore. For years, I have been in hiding, but the simple disregard for our society and magic has lead me to return and reunite with those who matter."

Demetra Fawley seemed to crumble, falling against her niece's shoulder, as her husband yelled across the silent room. "We've done nothing to you and you've destroyed our son, kidnapping him, enslaving him, and worse, having children with him. You will find no friends in the world of wizards, not after your crimes."

Jane Rowle laughed long and hard, casting a look at Aaron Bishop that lasted longer than it should have. There was an unspoken message in her look, and with a flick of her wrist and a long look down at her wand, she had shut up the two Fawleys. Clearly, they had not expected her to use magic. In all of Eris' stories of her mother, Eris had mentioned how scared of magic Jane was. Something or someone had changed the woman, who looked beautiful and different from the half-starved woman Eris described as her mother. Both Fawleys silenced, Jane laughed again and stalked through the ballroom.

It could almost seem like it wasn't exactly Jane, but the small child next to her, with her hands around her own wand, was clearly the lost Belladonna Rowle. The twin who had decided to stay with her mother looked drawn and pale. While her mother looked beautiful and adjusted to the world, Jane looked small. Even though she was taller than Eris, she looked smaller and nearly hidden behind her mother's voluminous skirts. The wand in her hands was sweaty, and sparks would occasionally shoot from it. It seemed that even though, Bella was clearly being trained as a witch, she had no control over the magic she was using.

Jane Rowle's voice and words were so different than any she had used. Those who remembered her would be confused, and those who had bought potions off of her would wonder where the fearful woman with a hunger to protect her family had gone. There was no shred of whatever sanity she had once possessed, and the only person she seemed to look at was Aaron Bishop, after deposing of the Fawleys.

"Ah, the crimes I committed could be traced towards the abuse families like yourself put me through. I simply wanted to protect my Luca from the horrors of this society, but he was too brainwashed so I had to help him. He was happier as a muggle, but now he's ruined again. I intended to have things under control, but there is no saving Luca from himself. He's better like this. Broken and weak, just as he always was."

She was closer to Aaron now, and with a smirk, she took one more step towards him. "As for allies, I believe I have some." With that, the evil recluse flung her arms around Aaron Bishop and kissed him.

Out of boredom, Rhea stood up and began to wander around the Manor. Clearly, there was nothing for her to do at the party, and the only thing that stopped her from going back upstairs and entertaining herself alone was her father's glare in her direction whenever she began to wander towards the stairs. Grumbling - but still maintaining a smile whenever a guest looked at her in confusion - Rhea headed back to the chair and flopped on it. 

Still hoping that Eris would arrive, Rhea's hopes were surely squashed when the Fawleys arrived... without her redheaded friend. She sighed and pressed her lips together, shrugging, knowing that there was probably a good reason her friend hadn't come with her family. But, now that she realized there would be no one for her to talk to, Rhea sighed in boredom and crossed her arms, pouting. She stood up and walked over to the table piled high with snacks, grabbing a plate and beginning to pile some food onto it, before returning to the parlor and sitting down in a couch, munching on a carrot stick out of boredom. 

Well, this would certainly be a boring night. 

----

The night was still young, the huge grandfather clock in the corner of the parlor barely hitting the 7:00 mark. Morgan was still in shock from the conversation, but she immediately felt better when her hand was grabbed and she was led away by none other than Demetra Fawley. Out of all her siblings, Morgan was the only one who knew of the Winchesters' relationship to the Fawleys. Her mother, Stella, had told her only a few months before her untimely death. At first, Morgan was undoubtedly shocked and betrayed, but those feelings faded away when she realized just how kind and caring Demetra was. The Fawley matriarch soon became Morgan's most trusted confidante. 

It was for that reason that she had gone to Demetra for help when Aurelie was born. She had asked for Demetra's advice on what to do, and the woman had in turn set her up with the Beauxmonts. Of course, Aaron had no idea that any of this occurred, and neither woman wanted him to ever find out. The Beauxmonts being present now put that at risk. 

"I don't know why they are here," Morgan answered honestly, drawing her bottom lip into her mouth and biting on it, a sign that she was nervous. "Noëlle said Aaron invited them. I am trying not to think too much about it; they are, after all, a powerful French family." Her breath still shuddery, Morgan began to fan herself. "Whoo, why is it so hot? You-" she indicated at a house elf, "Come here. Turn down the heat, and lower the flames in the fireplace." The house elf nodded and went to do what Morgan had ordered him, and while he did, Morgan looked anxiously at Demetra once more. "I'm-" her voice was cut off by the doors flinging open and a woman walking in. 

At first sight, the woman looked like a stranger, someone that Morgan had never before seen. But only one woman could invoke such a stunned reaction from Demetra. From the stories she'd heard, up to recent rumors of the crazed woman, Morgan immediately knew who the woman was. Jane Rowle. 

Frozen in both fear and surprise, Morgan could not force herself to say anything. She simply clutched Demetra's hand back, staring in shock at what was happening before. Jane came in, going on about some probably made up bullshit, and when she mentioned that the Fawleys deserved 'pain,' she almost wrenched herself forward and hexed the woman into oblivion. But she held herself back. First, she had to figure out what the crazy bitch wanted.

To say that Aaron was horrified would be the understatement of the century. His face had lost all color, even the charm he had placed upon his cheeks to seem less pale wasn't working. His eyes widened, and he lost all his composure. Despite his efforts to seem calm and collected, his twitching hands betrayed him. The Bishop attempted to make eye contact with the Rowle woman, trying to tell her to get the hell out of here. If his wife, or, quite frankly, anyone present in this room right now, found out about his secret right now... he would be screwed. Probably not her, because she had already been labeled as insane, but Aaron's reputation would be forever tarnished. 

He stared at her while she spoke, eyes glazing over as he listened to her every word. What wisdom her words contained! Over the time he had known her, the woman had only gotten more and more confident and wise. His anger and fear slowly began to vanish as he kept on listening to her speak. 

Morgan completely faded out of his mind as Jane stared at him. While usually, someone shutting up one of the Fawleys - such an influential family - would cause the Slytherin graduate to go out of his mind, it was Jane who did so. And Jane could do no wrong. He stared back at her as she berated the Fawleys, blaming them for losing her sanity. For becoming who she was today. And he agreed with her. Her words were completely logical!

Slowly, the Rowle began to creep closer and closer to him. Aaron's heart began to beat, both in excitement and fear of what she was about to do. He subconsciously took a step back, but she was much too close to him for the step to actually do anything. All it took was one more step and their faces would be inches apart. How much he wanted her to take that extra step was beyond belief.

And take it she did. All rational thought left his brain, and he kissed her back with more passion than he had ever kissed Morgan with... Morgan. Morgan! Pulling away frantically, Aaron's eyes wildly began looking around for his wife. He eventually made eye contact with her, and what he saw expressed in her eyes terrified him. He had never seen Morgan like this before, and he immediately cast a horrified yet lustful look at Jane before traipsing towards Morgan. 

"Morgan-" the man was interrupted by his wife slapping him so hard he knew his cheek would be red for the next few days. Her jaw was clenched, nostrils flared, and eyes wild. When he looked down at her hands, he could see the wand she held clutched in her fist shaking. Without a second look at him, Morgan marched straight up to Jane and looked her dead in the eyes... Before spitting straight into her face. 

"Get the hell out of my house, you crazy bitch," Morgan's voice was quiet, but filled with malice. "How dare you come in here, insult the Fawleys and then kiss MY husband? Get the hell out before I have to drag you out myself." 

Morgan's chest was heaving and she stared at Jane with enough anger to burn a hole through her head. She didn't even think of laying her eyes on the cheating scum that she called her husband. 

"... Mother?" the faint voice of a newly turned teenager sounded through Morgan's mad red, and the woman snapped her eyes over to her daughter. Rhea was holding a half bitten carrot stick in her hand, eyes covered with a light sheen of tears. "Who... Who is this woman?" The Bishop heiress had not seen nor heard anything, having come in only to see her mother heaving right in front of the stranger. 

Rather than replying, Morgan waved for a house elf to come over and gestured for it to take Rhea away. "What- Mother? Father?" they both ignored her, and eventually she gave up struggling against the house elf and let it take her away to her room. There, she sat on her bed and buried her head in her hands, wondering what was going on downstairs. 

Demetra Fawley could hardly breathe. She felt her body slipping away, wearily and tiredly unable to stop the tears from pouring from her eyes. Her darling son had been taken away from her by the demoness who now stood in front of her. The boy who Demetra thought of when she imagined her son wasn't the broken shell of a man Jane Rowle now proclaimed was deserving of the pain, of the nightmares, of the screams in the middle of the darkness that pierced her soul. He was not deserving of the vacant looks at his daughter, of the sweat in the middle of the night. Nobody deserved the pain of having their thoughts be hijacked, and the things that Jane said were pure lunacy.

Yet, there was a sheen of respect and awe in some of the faces of the crowd. The faces of those who feared the power of the Fawley line. Demetra Fawley had never, not once, in her long life ever feared for her family. They were all powerful, all mighty, and even when Luca was missing, she knew there were resources to find her son. They would surely have enemies, but none would ever succeed to defeat them. All her rashly placed securities in her family fell away, as the one true threat to the empire Demetra had crafted for herself stood in front of her in the form of her imposter daughter in law.

In a different world, Jane would have been accepted into the small inner circle that was so precious to Demetra. The woman and men Demetra Fawley loved were the people she could die for, and trying to soothe her breathing, Demetra repeated the names of the chosen few. Rhea Bishop, the heir to her niece's wealth. Morgan. Her niece, herself. Helen Stavrou, Eris Fawley, Adonis Fawley, and the list ended with her brother in law. Even so, Demetra turned to look towards her husband, fingers itching to grab his own. There was no love between them, not after all he had done. Still, she itched to find comfort in the hands of the man who might have been the only one in the room who felt the same as her.

Her whole body was set in place by the woman's spell, but Demetra felt herself attempt to squirm and move as she fought the spell with every fibre of her being. It was strange, seeing the woman who had hated magic so much and had given her 11-year-old daughter a key to her vault, standing in front of her with a wand and a fervent look in her eye, acting like a death eater of old.

The look in her eyes was directed towards her niece's husband, and there was something about the look that Demetra recognized from her own life. Still, the woman wanted to scream and she attempted to, but no noise came out of the woman's mouth. She knew something was about to go wrong, and there was nothing she could do. The petrifying spell was so simple, but it had done its job on both Demetra and her husband and everyone else was too busy watching the woman to help the Fawleys, not when attention was so easily diverted by the woman who knew she held all of their hearts in her hands.

And then, the blood traitor that Demetra had denounced herself was throwing herself upon her niece's husband, and he was kissing her back like they were mere teenagers drunk and high off love. They kissed like two lovers, not two adults who were both taken for in one way or another, and Demetra again began to struggle against the invisible bonds that had been cast against her.

Blood rushed through Demetra's head, as Jane pulled herself away from the Bishop-Patriarch and lazily trailed after him, watching as his own wife slapped him. As the angry woman stepped closer, Jane merely wiped the spit off her face and onto the gown of Morgan Bishop. However, the slap had broken the spell on the two Fawleys. They were both silent, watching the standoff as if they were still frozen.

"Ah, darling Morgan. Is it really appropriate to be slapping, when you have magic at your disposal? This is what I'm talking about! Wizards have grown weak and careless. It is a shame, that one of such a noble line like the Bishop one has resorted to violence and spittle instead of casting a simple curse. No matter, I believe the queen has been overthrown." With the wave of her own wand and a muttered accio, Morgan's own wand was in Jane's hand and a smirk still on her face.

"Now Morgan, I don't think I shall get out of this home. If it's not obvious to your dull mind, your husband is unfaithful and the whole wizarding world will know of it shortly. You will be disgraced and looked down upon. You and your daughter, Rhea isn't it? Or is it something else? Your secrets are worse than mine, dear Morgan. I might be labeled the evil one, but at least I'm open about it. You, on the other hand, I feel pity for. Coming clean might do you some good."


Content she was ruining the woman's reputation more and more with every second, Jane looked down at the wand in her hands and snapped it in half. "Now get out of my sight, before I ruin you even more. Or should I say, ruin your daughter?"

Turning towards Aaron, Jane smiled. "You, my love, can either go with her and pretend to pick up the pieces of a cold marriage, or you could stay with me and fix the mistakes our careless families have caused in the past." Her voice was a low caress, as Jane winked and dropped the shards of the wand on the ground, about to step on them before the pieces were whisked away by a quick accio by Demetra Fawley.

There were no words for what Demetra Fawley felt. She did not want to fight, rather, she just wanted to save the fragments of her family. Ignoring Jane completely, Demetra tugged on her niece's dress, trying to soothe her.

"Come, go get your daughter. You can stay at my home. This is no place to stay in."

Morgan was heaving; she had never been this angry in her entire life. But among the anger that slowly began to cloud her vision, Morgan felt a piercing ache in her heart. It shone through the anger in the shape of... tears. Morgan's eyes welled up, but as soon as she realized she willed them away. There was no way she would give Jane Rowle the satisfaction of making her cry. Despite the pang of hurt she got when she looked upon her husband, despite the urge to hex Jane into oblivion, where no one would ever see her again - Morgan took a deep breath in. She bit her lip, so hard it began to draw blood, and gazed upon Jane with a level gaze. 

"I felt slapping him would show how much respect I have left," The woman didn't even look in Aaron's direction, deeming him unworthy of her attention. And her voice? Her voice was devoid of emotion; she sounded close to a robot. "Which is none. And as for you, I do not believe you worthy of a curse. It would show that I care about scum such as yourself."

Shaking her head, Morgan stepped away, leaving some distance between her and the Rowle woman. The 'accio' came unexpected; Morgan was left wandless, but she didn't allow it to affect her. She had been through situations like these before. Perhaps not exactly, but there were instances when she had to shut down her emotions and think rationally. The Bishop had gotten rather excellent at that. 

Stepping forward, Morgan extended her palm out, waiting for Jane to return the wand. She had multiple people on her side; not only the elderly Fawleys' but the presence of all of the allies she had made based on her husband's (or, prior husband's), connections. She didn't say anything, allowing Jane the opportunity to return her wand back before she unleashed a slurry of wandless curses (actually, not that many, but the ones Morgan knew were pretty damn horrible).

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Morgan maintained her level tone, though her heartbeat sped up. She only had one secret; one secret that could destroy her marriage even more and her reputation in the pureblood community. There was no way Jane could have found out. The only person who knew, other than the Beauxmonths themselves, was Demetra. And Morgan trusted her great-aunt with her life. "You have no right to be talking. You know nothing."

Morgan shook her head with disgust, stepping even farther away from her. She retained her sense of regality, never allowing her guests to see just how much fear Jane's words drove through her. The amount of hatred that was running through her veins was unmatched; there was no way it would stay inside and not erupt for long. In fact, she felt herself curling her fingers into fists, glaring at Jane. Especially when the Rowle woman brought up her daughter. And her hatred only exploded even further when she had the audacity to snap her wand. Morgan's lips formed into an unladylike snarl as she watched her wand drop to the ground. 

"This is my house, and you are an unwelcome guest," Morgan motioned her hand in a circle then pointed down, a gesture that meant to bring out the form of security the Bishops had installed for threats. In this case, Morgan regarded Jane as a threat. She was to be escorted off the Bishop property immediately, a group of 3 goblins walking in and grabbing Jane's hands. In her anger, she didn't seem to hear what Jane's last words were, but Aaron did. Good thing, too, 'cause they were directed at him. 

Throughout the entire time Morgan was confronting his mistress, Aaron had frozen in his spot. It was as if he had turned into a completely different person; his two worlds had collided in a matter of seconds, and now his life was flipped upside down. He had no idea what to do, how to control it, if he even could. He simply stared at the showdown between his wife and Jane, and despite what his mind told him, his heart was on Jane's side. His marriage with Morgan had long since fallen apart. Actually, now that he thought about it, their marriage had never been for love. It had purely been for the benefit of both of their reputations; an arranged marriage between two powerful families. And now everyone had to pay the price. 

He stared at his wife, as if asking her to back down. Aaron knew the extent of Jane's madness and capabilities, which only made her more attractive to him. The affair hadn't even been going for that long, but somehow down the road, Aaron had gotten captivated by Jane. She presented some sort of change, something to spice up his dull life. She was danger, and lord knows Aaron needed some danger in his life. The constant repetition of the Bishop patriarch's life was driving Aaron crazy, and Jane did just the opposite. She drove him crazy, but in a good way. 

That was something Morgan had never been able to do. Aaron's wife was pretty level headed in most scenarios, always calming him down and thinking clearly. It wasn't a bad thing, not at all, but over time Aaron grew bored of it. She wasn't Jane; she didn't make him go crazy attempting to match her. There was never a time where their fights exhilarated him, not like his fights with Jane did. 

The goblins appearing out of nowhere caused Aaron to finally come to his sense, and he cleared his throat loudly. The goblins turned to look at him, but they didn't have any intentions of dropping Jane. They followed their orders through and through; even if Morgan told them to drop Jane they would not have. Grumbling, Aaron followed them briskly, staring at Jane with the same lovesick look in his eyes. He didn't even love her; it was lust that he felt! And yet he continued to follow her. 

"It's you," he muttered, catching up to Jane and moving alongside her. "I will always choose you, do not doubt me," Aaron only vaguely thought about the secret that she spoke about exposing. The rational part of his mind seemed to realize that he'd already ruined his reputation this much, whatever secret Jane was going to expose could do no harm. In fact, the real secret that she was talking about did not even cross his mind; Aaron had long since forgotten about his first daughter. He'd preferred to push that secret out of his mind. 

Morgan watched her husband leave. Some part of her had really thought he was going to stay, yet here he was. Trailing like a damn puppy after the woman who had snapped her wand in half, threatened not only his daughter but to expose them as well. Of course, Morgan never really had high hopes for Aaron's loyalty; she always guessed he was cheating. In fact, her own mother had assured her that he was, having caught him in his study one night with a blonde. But Morgan never could have guessed he would've chosen Jane as one of his conquests -was she even a conquest anymore? The way he followed her proved her otherwise, insinuating that Aaron truly had gained feelings for Jane. It made Morgan disgusted. 

She looked down, watching the goblins drag both Jane and Aaron out. Their depart made Morgan realize just how loveless her marriage really was. Biting her lip, Morgan looked up as Demetra approached. Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time, the woman didn't push them down. One by one, they began to trickle down her cheeks, until Morgan simply decided to throw herself onto Demetra and squeeze her, using her as the support she didn't show she needed. Rather than saying anything, Morgan simply nodded and motioned for a house elf to go and bring her daughter. 

Eventually, Morgan pulled away and looked at Demetra with broken hearted eyes. "I do not know where I went wrong. I thought... despite our squarrels, I thought we could make it. And now I learn he had been playing around with Jane Rowle," shaking her head, Morgan rubbed her face and took a deep breath. She was okay. It would be alright. "Thank you, Demetra. For everything."

Morgan awaited Rhea's arrival, and when her daughter finally came, she grabbed her hand. Rhea looked up at Morgan with confused, doe eyes, wanting to know what the matter was. Morgan exchanged a look with Demetra and sighed heavily. "We're going to be staying with the Fawleys, for a bit. I will explain everything to you later, darling, but come along for now. Everything is alright." Rhea was able to see how serious her mother was and for that reason, remained silent. For once.

The guests around simply stood, watching the show with gaping mouths. Soon enough, rumors of the secret began to spread around the room. Purebloods were nosy, and any opportunity to get some sort of gossip - more gossip than had already been spread - was an opportunity no one could give up. The whispers eventually reached the Beauxmonts, who looked at Morgan's retreating figure. But remained silent. The Bishops were already dealing with one scandal, they didn't need another one. 

Perhaps the most odd sight in the ballroom full of oddities was the small child, fevertly twirling the wand in her hand, watching the grey sparks that shot out of the wand. She hung behind the skirts of Jane’s beautiful gown, but the stubborn frizz that did not stay put on her head of curls could be seen, as Belladonna Rowle looked around the room. Her mouth hung ajar, seemingly ignorant or uninterested by the bitter quips of her mother and the man who had became her mother’s partner in the span of seconds. Her own outfit was rich in color, as the girl spun and twirled throughout the floors, falling short in front of Demetra Fawley.

Although her outfit was rich, it was not as beautiful as her mother’s outfit. Not by any standards. Her outfit clearly had less thought put into it, not as much expenses paid for the gown that hugged her slightly ankles and did not reach the floor like the other gowns in the room.

She seemed ignorant to the fighting of her mother, or perhaps used to it, as she spun away. Demetra’s attention was taken away from Jane Rowle’s speeches, moving down to look at the child. Jane would have pulled the child away, but the vile woman was far too busy talking in a passionate voice, timber of her voice sweeping and echoing in a horrifyingly beautiful way. If it was the voice of any other woman,

The child’s eyes fell upon the rich red streaks in Demetra’s hair. Demetra had been valiantly trying to use her prowess as a metamorphmagus to make her hair seem more grey, similar to her husband and his aging appearance. Yet, she found that her hair was still red as it had been as a child, minus few streaks of gray and less lustre to her hair. The child looked at the red of Demetra’s hair in awe, a confused expression upon her face.

“Eris?” She looked confused, but a faint sheen of hope could be seen in her eyes, as she ogled the woman. Demetra was so evidently not her granddaughter that she was taken aback for a moment, and perhaps the expression upon her face was an inclination enough, as the little girl looked mortified and saddened at the same time.

Had the child been lied to so horribly, as to believe that an old woman was her twin sister? Demetra’s perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised upwards, arcing in a beautiful arc on her forehead, as her forehead wrinkled, imperceptible to the young Rowle. She crouched down, ignoring Jane completely, staring at Bella.

“My name is Demetra, child. I’m afraid Eris is my granddaughter. While I’m pleased that you think I look as youthful as a 12 year old, I assure you, that is not the truth.”Who was this child? Was she Aurelie? There was a confused pause. No, Aurelie was older now. Far older. But, this child looked older than her Eris. She was tall and lanky, different than the short and skinny granddaughter of Demetra’s, who would be back at the Harringtom home at this point. She wondered how the girl was doing but shook her head. Anything was better than this hellish party, with a bastard woman kissing her dearest niece’s husband.

The child held up her wand, eyes blinking rapidly. “You are my sister’s grandmother?” She didn’t seem to understand that would make her the granddaughter of the esteemed woman crouching in front of her. Skirts fanning around the two, Demetra blinked rapidly and tucked an errant strand of red hair behind her ear, immersing herself in that simple action, as her heart fluttered like a caged bird, heart soaring and crashing all in one motion.

Demetra herself felt a strange noise choke out of her throat, staring at the child who had been convinced by her son so long ago.The girl had her son’s eyes and his broad nose, but sadly had not inherited the Fawley spark that ran throughout Eris. Demetra had once heard a silly rumour about the hair of Fawleys being red to demonstrate their raging hot fiery passion. She had found that amusing, considering that her family had metamorphmagus traits anyways. Still, she enjoyed the idea. If the red hair was a symbol of passion, the dark hair Jane and her chosen daughter had could mean something of the opposite. Evil, mayhaps. She mused over that, but found herself drawn to the tiny girl in her small dress, as she wandered away from her mother and looked at Demetra with an expression that was hard to read. Even for the woman well versed in reading people’s faces, this child seemed to be a wild card.

“I’m your grandmother too, if that’s the logic you’re to use. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Demetra.”

The child looked at Demetra with distrust, but beyond that, interest. An eager interest, clearly derived from solitude. But, the distrust won out in the end, as her inquisitive look turned into one of grudgingly muted apprehension. “My mum says that all Fawleys are bad.” Her eyes met Demetra’s, as if she was trying to gauge the “badness” in the woman’s eyes.

All similarity to herself, her son, and her husband fell away in that look. The child had no other similarities, looking truly like the Russian Fields and Rowles that haunted Jane Rowle’s family tree. For a moment, the world seemed to go slower. Perhaps that's why she was able to muse over the past in such detail, as Demetera looked at the girl. Her and Eris were just girls. Twins, to be precise. Twin girls, designated to different sides of their family, all based on appearance and when their magic had revealed itself.

Demetra remembered Morrigan Rowle in that moment, and couldn’t help but sense the similarities in the two. Both were untrustworthy and had fallen under the jurisdiction of evil mothers. Shaking her head and sighing at the memories of the past, she almost felt herself recede down a journey to the past, but collected herself.

Yet, it was too late to not think about the Rowle who had caused such trouble at school with those muggle devices and loose lipped smiles. Oh, how the world had hated her! But oh, there was so much that Morrigan was able to give the world. Cigarette smoke and boots of polished black marching through Hogwarts, prefect badge and smirk both able to drive every single pureblood crazy. That woman had been a reminder of the fact not all purebloods turned out the same; and a source of hope for Demetra and her cherished granddaughter’ future.

Maybe, just maybe, Eris would not have to bend to a mould and find herself trapped in a life like the one Demetra was trapped in. Life could have many different paths for her young grandchild, instead of just one that lead down an invisible march to an unfulfilling death, in an unfulfilling world full of pursed lips and purses.

Although, a fond smile graced her lips at the reminder of Morrigan. Perhaps yet another pureblood in recent years who had escaped the avoidable fate of being tied down to someone she hadn’t loved. Similar to the eldest Starvou daughter, the eldest Rowle daughter had chosen her own path, and ended up peacefully married to a halfblood. Although, their marriage could hardly be called peaceful, considering the two’s conflicting natures and the nature of being denounced as a blood traitor. But, the two had always worked together. Throughout their chaos, there was always something that drew the young couple together. Demetra had always envied the young woman for that, for being able to choose a life of love over a life of sadness.

Behind all the smiles, Demetra knew that none in the room right now were happy. They never really were happy, and Jane’s arrival was just another reason to hide behind. A person to point the blame to for their own miserable actions, for the pathetic way they clung and clawed upon others. The blame was always diverted, but Morrigan had never done that. She had been able to do what Demetra never could do, even though her thoughts often ran back to the simple movement.

For Morrigan had done the impossible. She had taken the dive off the deep end. The very dive that Demetra could never make. Almost as a habit, her eyes grew glossy, as she looked around the room. She knew the person she searched for would not be there, as her eyes glanced past her husband. The features she searched for were far more enthralling than Adrian Fawley could ever be, beautiful even with wrinkles of age and laugh lines. But her husband, he was not beautiful. His features were screwed up into contempt for the she-devil in the room, but the contemptuous expression upon his face was so familiar that Demetra considered debating if he was even thinking about the woman in the room, as his eyes squinted. Yet, he never stopped to notice his wife or the child by her. Her thoughts drifted back to Morrigan, as she wondered if the girl’s husband would act such a way. She hadn’t seen the denounced couple in years, and couldn’t imagine a life away from all of pureblood society. Did her denounced family member wake up to the stern face of a man who did not love her, or did she wake up to affection and a promise of a new day? Demetra had felt that once, a hope for a future that went against all odds. Now, now, she just waited for the day her granddaughter was grown up and her son had regained what little sanity he had left. And then? Maybe the world would stop feeling like such a wasteland, and she could finally do what she pleased.

Although, Demetra knew that Morrigan-- Mor, she liked being called, wasn’t it?--was far happier than any other in the Rowle clan had ever been. Pursing her lips and wondering over the fate of the woman and her husband, she shook her head and turned back to the small girl in front of her. She was still talking, speaking of how her mother had insisted upon the nefariousness of the Fawley family.

Of course Jane had said that. Demetra’s face darkened, as she let out a sighing noise, squinting down to study Bella. “Then I suppose you’re also bad. And your sister, as well. You are aware that you are of my flesh and blood.” The woman answered, lips pursed in deep thought, as she looked at the girl. Her flesh and blood. The child of her son, who she remembered still as the crying baby who had been convinced with her blood, sweat, and tears.

Why had this child been brought to the public gathering? What point, besides ruining the lives of the Fawleys and Bishops alike, was being made at the present moment? Try as she might, Demetra was at a loss for thoughts and words at the moment. She had never much liked using people for power, for influence, for anything. In her childhood, she had delighted over it. But, as an old woman, she had seen so many people break in front of her. She had seen the sharpened swords of querulous tongues, and knew that words could hurt more than wandfire.

The old woman felt a blistering migraine in her temples, heating up her face and making her groan, clutching a hand to her heart. Meanwhile, Belladonna blinked and shook her head, even more curls spilling out and obscuring her face. She made no attempt to move the curls away from her face, just shaking her head even more.

“Eris took all the badness. She was a wicked girl when we were growing up. Always using her magic to scare Mum. Mum says she’s the reason Dad left us and went all crazy, to go back to his crazy family. She says that the Fawleys are the reason that our life is bad, and that I don’t count, because I didn’t join them to be wicked and evil.” Her chest puffed up, but she sighed and the silly motion released, along with the air she was holding in.

Pride and fear darted across her expression, before settling into a muted expression of shyness that was intriguing soft and sad for one so young. There wasn’t exactly a deeper meaning in her eyes, but there was wisdom in them that spoke of a child much older. Growing up with a mother such as Jane Rowle, growing up quickly was something that had to happen.

Only, Eris had pushed away her maturity and turned into a fiendish child. Bella carried herself differently, from what Demetra could learn from the scant bit of conversation the two had. She was glad for the moment to talk to her other grandchild though, and even in the midst of all the chaos and pain that Jane Rowle was causing in the moment, at least there was a small reprieve in the form of conversing with her grandchild.

Although, was there guilt to be felt over how happy it made her to talk to this child? This child who should have never been? Sometimes, Demetra woke up with a cold sweat sticking to her body, as she dealt with the guilt of loving Eris so fiercely, when Luca had not wanted her. When the child should have never been born.

Those same insecurities ran through her head again, numbing out the conversation with Bella for a moment, before the child began to speak again. Bella clearly must have thought that Demetra was brooding upon her words, from the worried expression upon her face and the way she added to her former speech.

“No offense.” Bella added, meekly, remembering who she was talking to. With a sheepish expression upon her pale face, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, attempting to diminish the effect the voluminous curls had upon her face. However, the frizz only seemed to worsen, as she tried to deal with it.

Demetra sighed again, seeing the girl trying to be a mirror image of her mother. Still crouching down, she offered out a hand to the child, shaking her own head. A soft smile etched upon her face, the woman remarked upon all the odd things she had seen in her life. Nothing was more strange than this poor child, an enigma in her own right.

“You’re my granddaughter, dearest. And your sister, she is not wicked. She’s a bit violent, mind you. One time she punched this poor little ravenclaw girl in the face, for annoying her best friend. Although, it was all worth it in the end. The two are still best friends, and Eris is off seeing him right now. I’m sure she’d love to see you though.”

Wicked. Wicked by association, or wicked because of their long history? Theresa Fawley might have been evil, but Demetera Fawley was not her husband’s ancestors. The words hit close to home though, echoing in the matron’s head, as she sighed and dropped her hand, realising there was no way to reach the child through affection in the current moment.

Wickedness. Her family had never been considered wicked. The Winchesters had often stayed out of pureblood dramas, including the wizarding wars. Demetra had never known just how cruel the world could be, until she found herself out of Hogwarts and married to a man who thrived upon chaos, who climbed upwards in life without any respect for the people he dragged down.

Wicked. She knew far too well what it meant to be wicked. She looked in the mirror every morning and found herself staring back at a woman so vile, so horrendous, that she sometimes expected green skin and warts to leer back at her. But, this child did not need to know of the burdens of adulthood, of the heart, and the inevitable break of the heart. It was far easier to lie, and lying was something Demetra had became good at.

She sighed. “Nobody is truly wicked. Your mother is the villain in my story, but it's only natural that she speaks badly of my husband’s family. However, we are not evil. We are your family, and will always be there for you, if ever you decide to leave your mother’s side. You could attend Hogwarts, I’m certain. Perhaps make us proud, as a Slytherin?” Her lips quirked upwards. “Or a ravenclaw. Your sister shocked us all as a Gryffindor.”

She relied solely upon the faint inkling that Bella wanted what Eris had wanted, and still did. A normal family life, an enjoyable time at Hogwarts, and the support lacking from Jane Rowle. She kept her final card hidden though, waiting for Bella’s response, before she admitted the father who awaited her at home. From what Eris had said of Luca as a father, he had been a good one to both girls. Although, he was in no mental state to see Bella. Yet, looking at the small girl, Demetra had already decided that there was no way the poor, pathetic, thing was going back to her arsehole of a mother.

She would drag the child home to the Fawley Manor, regulations be damned. But she knew, deep down, that such a thing could not happen. Not tonight. Not during Jane’s first public appearance. She had played her cards, and Demetra would need to wait and see what to do--with the child, with Jane, with life. It was tiring, the endless expanse of things she had to do, but it was a burden that Demetra would have to bare with.

Her whole life she had to take care of others. But, unlike before, she delighted in taking care of children. She had delighted in Luca’s childhood, and had almost begged for another child, but Adrian had laughed in her face. He claimed that inheritance would be far harder with more children, and that they could only have one child. Thus, Luca was raised as a lonely child. Demetra had done all she could, but there was a void inside of her that could only be filled by caring for children and enjoying the company of people she truly cared for.

The list of people she cared for was dwindling by the year, as people exposed their true colours and Demetra learned even more about how to guard herself behind walls of steely gazes and emotionless stares. It was a talent, but not one she was good at. But, with time, anyone could find themselves good at something they detested.

“Eris punched someone?” Bella giggled, unable to stop herself from remembering the sister who had left almost two years ago. How hard it was to consider that Eris and Bella had last seen each other two years ago. Demetera found herself wondering if the two even remembered each other in more than flashes of coloured hair and late night conversations.

Her worries faded away like ripples on a clear lake in the middle of summer. Slowly, and then all at once; until nothing was left. At the sight of the child being happy and free, the woman relaxed. She had always had a soft spot for the innocence of childhood, when it was real and unadulterated. In a world of frivolous dresses and wand waving, all the authenticity was behind closed doors. Nobody was there when you cried and when you were no longer in a gorgeous gown you lost all meaning. Demetra had always found that children were able to show their emotions in public, even without their gowns and honeyed words. And, when a child did show how they felt, Demetra found it glorious and a cause to celebrate. A reminder that not all had been corrupted by the barbaric world of sharpened crowns and steely glares that had been all Demetera had known for her whole life.

Bella’s giggle sparked something inside of Demetra. It was the way her son would have been, had his life not been ruined. The way Eris sometimes was, when she thought nobody was watching her. The pure joy and astonishment that Demetra had not felt for herself in some time, even with a young granddaughter to pamper. Her own lips curled upwards into a smile, ruby painted lipstick still shining brightly upon her lips. But, just as soon as that faint star in the darkness approached, it flickered out.

Her smile and giggle faltered, as the girl thought about Hogwarts and having a larger family. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it, not sure what to say. There was a strange way that she seemed to hold onto Demetra’s words, analyzing them. The distrust and fascination pooled together, creating a facial expression that Demetra found utterly fascinating and quite frankly, amusing. She bit down on the corner of her ruby painted lip, attempting not to crack another smile or chuckle at the dull expression upon her wide eyed face. Quite bluntly, it was amusing to see one so young struggle with so many thoughts. Although, naturally, Demetra also felt an amused sense of pride for the way Belladonna was so clearly questioning her strange morals, gifted to her by a parent who was negligent and rude at best, borderline abusive at worst.

There was hope in the child’s eyes, shining as brightly as the gilded chandelier above. But, as Demetra opened her mouth to speak again, an echoing laugh rung throughout the room. Perhaps it was magically enhanced to sound louder; booming and scraping over the walls in a dazzling timberno that quickly garnered the attention of every soul still in the room. If the laugh hadn’t came from such a vile person, Demetra would have wondered upon such a laugh. Was it born of natural joy, or one of the fake laughs that so many purebloods gave out like candy to young children on All Hallows eve?

Jane Rowle’s laugh started as abruptly as it had stopped, but even as her laugh halted, the ringing still was present in the ears and minds of all gathered. It was echoing and piercing, as all words she spoke were. It was like nails down the chalkboard, or a sword piercing through armour.

Now, there wasn’t anything wrong with her voice. Yet, the sickeningly sweet way she moved and talked, knowing the world was hers; that she held the room on a string, it was damming. It was evident in her eyes, as she crooned and yanked her daughter away from Demetra, who in a huff, was up again and itching towards Jane, hands slowly curling into the fabric of her dress, as she realised she had left her darling niece alone with the evil woman. Able to move again, Jane’s spell seemingly having worn off long moments ago, Demetra was in motion.

Demetra hurried towards the Bishop matron, her skirts flying behind her. However, she made it too late, as the laugh rung throughout the room. Belladonna went silent, all trace of hidden inner light and smiles gone, as she floundered over to her mother’s side just in time to watch Jane Rowle giggle and tap her hands lightly over the wand in her hands.

“Scum? Am I scum?”A delighted laugh again, as Jane smirked at Morgan and then at the gathered family who Morgan was trying to vainly to ignore. Her eyes met Noelle’s, a silent look upon her face that hinted to Jane’s knowledge of what had happened. The woman controlled an underworld ring of ungodly wizards, barbaric men and women who wanted the world to return to pureblood grandeur,as it had been in the times of Grindelwald and Voldemort. It was little wonder that Jane had found information about Morgan that could end her, even if it seemed almost impossible to learn about such afflictions.

Her damming gaze turned back to Morgan, as Jane looked at Morgan, eyes piercing through whatever shattering shield of emotion Morgan was trying so pathetically to keep up with. “At least I don’t keep child-sized secrets.” She retorted, eyes crinkling as she made a wicked expression, almost trying to look innocent. She gave up instantly, simply tsking and watching Demetra pull Morgan away. “But your secrets only grow and mature like a fine wine or a growing child. It would be a shame if anything was to happen to them.” Them, so obviously being the secret daughter, Jane smiled sweetly. Although, as Demetra would later remark to her distraught family, even her sweet smiles looked akin to vipers spitting venom.

“I know everything. When you spend so long in the shadows, the shadows whisper to you. They talk back, and oh, how they speak.” A maniacal gleam in her eyes, Jane’s gaze was fully focused on Morgan, breaking into her with each word. Each syllable was long and drawn out, as Jane knew the crowd was aware. Was listening to her! Her eyes sparkled with an inner malice, growing darker and more pronounced with each biting vowel and smirking pause for effect. It was clear she thrived off chaos in the same way Aaron Bishop, or Adrian Fawley did. She almost basked in the moment, as elated as a child. Only, the wicked spark in her eyes was enough to ruin any parallels one could make to Jane Rowle and a child at Disneyland.

“Go now, before you ruin yourself more. People talk, Morgan Bishop. And, oh! The words I have heard about you.” In another sweeping turn of skirts, she had turned around to stare at Rhea. She pointed her wand at the child, ignoring the hush that had fallen over the ballroom, as Demetra stopped running forward and stared, eyes wide.

Demetra stopped pushing through people who gaped and stared. She was trapped, immobilized behind the very skirts and gowns she hated so much. The world slowly began to sway on its axis, tilting, falling, plummeting towards the ground. Gasps and even laughter reached Demetra’s ears, but she was afraid to move, to break the uneasy silence of the world. Any step could make Jane panic, and make Rhea a dead girl.

Memories flashed through her head, of the child she had known little of outside of letters. Letters written in Morgan’s handwriting, talking about a girl who had dyed her hair. Worried letters, written by people from all over the community, concerned about the Bishop heir in Gryffindor. A child born, while Demetra held Morgan’s hand. A child who she had been kept from by her husband. Demetra vowed, silently, to spend more time with her side of the family after this. Adrian be damned. Everything be damned.

Not Rhea. Not a child. Not her granddaughter’s friend. Not another one. She had lost Luca, seen his sanity slip away. She wouldn’t let that happen to another person, but like everyone else, Demetra was frozen in place, her hands slipping and falling away from her wand, looking to her husband for comfort.

She had long since learned not to ask for affection from her husband, but in such a situation, all she wanted was to be held. To be supported. But, she knew that there was nobody here for that. Demetra would have to be strong for everyone in the room. But, perhaps, maybe Adrian could help for once.

She found, with a pained expression, her husband. He was watching Jane with a look of despicable agreement, that he tried vainly to hide behind a stoic wall of rage. But, Demetra knew her husband. More than he ever had known her. She knew him, every part of him. She had been witness to his fits of rage, his screaming about how muggleborns deserved to rot. He truly was the son of Charles Fawley, and a blind rage filled her lungs, at the way he seemed to not care about his son’s kidnapper standing in front of him.

He would care little for anything that did not advance his status. Everything in life was of monetary value to him, family included. If he truly thought that Jane would be a good way to advance pureblood society, he would support her--despite the wrongs she had and just had committed. Rage filled Demetra, but she could nothing. She could not fight him, could not speak a word against him. Not without causing even more discomfort in the already falling pureblood world.

Time froze, as Jane held her wand to Rhea’s chest. “My daughter’s cousin. Pathetic, really. Did you know mummy is keeping secrets from you? And that daddy dearest is disappointed in you?” Her voice rose, another laugh erupting. “We all are, darling. A Gryffindor who isn’t brave, a child who revels in the company of mudbloods and morons like my astonishingly stupid daughter, Eris.”

She took another step forward, the point of her wand pressing into Rhea’s chest, slowly making a mark there. “You are unwanted and unneeded by your family. But, you won’t always be unwanted and unneeded. If you ever decide to become a better pureblood, to escape the secrets of your mother, find me.” A locket appeared upon Rhea’s neck, large and black. “You’ll know what to do when the time comes.” There was something inside of it, but Jane had already moved away, wand back to hanging limply in her hand.

Oh, how she thrived upon this chaos. Upon the uncertainty, counting on Rhea’s reservations to warp her mind and concern her far more than the woman who had pointed a wand at her chest. A smirk upon her face, Jane turned back to the crowd with a lazy smile spreading over her features.

Demetra stepped forward, pushing herself in front of Rhea, Morgan, and the she-devil. Grasping the hand of Morgan, she took Rhea’s hand in her other free hand, wand tucked into her bodice, Demetera looked upon Jane with withering discontempt.

Discontempt enough to rattle Jane, who laughed loudly again. “Anyone makes a move against me, I kill the child.” The child in question was her daughter, as little Belladonna felt a wand pressed up against her throat. The girl blinked, but submitted her head, seemingly accepting whatever fate would come her way.

Demetra’s hands were shaking, as she pulled the two away. Trying to get away from the woman, to a place to apparate away, time froze again as Jane took in Aaron’s words. A finger reached upwards to caress Aaron’s face, a painted nail stroking the lines of his face in a way that seemed so possessive, but so familiar. Like it had been done millions of times before, in the quiet of hidden rooms.

Aaron shivered. Perhaps he didn’t. It made no difference, as Jane knew the man would lean into her touch. He did just that, as Jane draped her arms around the Bishop patriarch and turned to look at the room, authority emulating off of her, as her hands idly played with the collar of Aaron’s suit. The message was clear, as she showed them off as a pair.

Morgan Bishop was being chased out of the home. Jane Rowle was the new woman of the house, and those who disagreed would have Jane and Aaron to face. Jane knew this, as she turned to the gathered crowd and smiled simperingly.

“Stay or leave. The choice is yours.” The underlying message was also clear. Stay and be part of Jane’s good graces. Leave, and be part of Morgan’s good graces. Adrian Fawley caught his wife’s eye, and the look between them was not of love, but of mutual understanding in a business arrangement.

Adrian would stay to observe, while Demetra would care for the disgraced Bishops. Demetra nodded her head once, a frown upon her features, as she looked at Morgan and sighed. Her sigh echoed, as Demetra slowly lead Rhea and Morgan away from the ballroom, shoulders drooping. She looked at Morgan and shook her head once, seemingly trusting the young Bishop heiress with the conversation.

“It is the pureblood world, Morgan. Marriages are rarely faithful. Aaron was not the type of man who would stay with you. Aaron is a man focused on power, upon money, and what not.”She said, with a bitter sort of realism, before taking another moment to squeeze Morgan’s hand. “It will all work out. Come, you need time to grieve.”

She then turned to the young Bishop, frown deepening. How horrible fate to have to leave your own home because of your father? Never before had Demetra even considered such a thing happening to the Winchester side of the family. However, Aaron Bishop had the keen ability to ruin everything. Anger festering in her, Demetra tucked it down and looked at the two Bishops.

“I can write to Eris and alert her to come home if you want someone to talk to.”She spoke to Rhea, before sighing again. “We have extra rooms, and after all, you are both family. You are welcome to your pick of any room.” Demetra looked around trice, seemingly judging the ballroom to be far enough away.

She stopped walking away from the room, now in an empty corridor in the Bishop Estate. Hands still clasping the two of Bishop women, Demetra offered a tight-lipped, distant smile to the both of them.

“When you are ready to apparate, say the word. I’ll take you both to my home.”