August '23

Pericles' thoughts were heavy that summer. He had overheard the shocking revelation that the grandparents hidden from him were criminals, and rather than confront his parents, he took it upon himself to learn more about who and where they were. Such frivolities as formal meetings felt more like wasteful pageantry than ever. Yet another prospective client was due for a visit with his father, and this time, they were coming to the Dralt estate. The heir went about preparations with a marked listlessness. On average, he could find an excuse or another to avoid sitting through these, but this time, the client was bringing along an heir of their own. "Entertain our guest, please," his father was saying in light of this information. Pericles scowled lightly as he picked a piece of lint from his sleeve. "Like a jester?" he mumbled dryly. Chalking his son's recent apathy up to teenage hormones, Isaac replied with tolerance, tucking away a piece of stray hair with a clawed fingertip. "Like a good host," he corrected, smiling in spite of the tired look the boy slid his way. He could put up with one afternoon of another successor's company, he thought, but that was before he met said successor.

The Vaillancourt family were known social strategists, so it was any wonder why they would come here to mingle with a vampiric commodore. Vassilios was a middle-aged gentleman with blocky features, a sharp goatee, and shifty eyes. His daughter cut a similarly imposing figure: Odette was poised and graceful, yet there was a hardness to her expression and a sharpness to her glare. One eye was covered by an ornate metal patch. The other was a curious shade of deep indigo, which fixed intently upon Pericles as their fathers shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Both postured quite proudly behind their descendants as they encouraged an introduction. The witch held out her hand and Pericles grasped it gently. She replied with a tight squeeze and a flatly spoken "Odette, sixth-year at Beauxbatons, Ombrelune house." He managed a more convincing display of politeness as he answered "Pericles, fifth-year at Hogwarts, Ravenclaw house." All it took was one long look for them to determine one another's intentions. Her gaze was prying and analytical, his was weary and forcibly forbearing. He wanted this day to be over. She wanted to make a game of it.

Isaac invited Vassilios to accompany him to his study, "graciously" declaring Pericles would be responsible for occupying Odette. He hadn't had to deal with anything like this in awhile, and just maybe, his ability to present ceremoniously had deteriorated in the nonchalant atmosphere of Hogwarts. Left to mingle, he made the mistake of speaking to her like one kid to another instead of interacting like bluebloods. "Would you like to see my room? I just finished organizing my collection of curios this morning." "I hardly think that would be appropriate." Oh, she was that grade of pedigree. After a taken-aback lag, Peri tentatively proposed "Well, my mother has an impressive brewing room, if you're more interested in potions." "I don't believe it would be appropriate to visit an alchemist's lab while they aren't present." Pericles paused again, sizing her up with a faint squint. Odette stared back expectantly. Caving with a trace of impatience, he asked tersely, "What would you find appropriate?" Her smile was narrow as a knife wound. "I would like to see the grounds."

It didn't take long for her to launch into not-so-subtle attempts at one-uppance. Odette peppered him with questions throughout their garden stroll, only to follow his answers with grander, more fanciful information about herself. His family owned three ships? Hers had four. He took ten classes? She took twelve. She was needling his patience, but to what end, the lad couldn't decipher. "What is your extracurricular?" Braced for the bit, his responses had become shorter and emptier. "I'm a duellist." She switched tactics. "Are you any good at it?" Pericles gave her a confused glance, thought for a beat, then shrugged his shoulders. "Everyone with magical capability is at least a little good at it, don't you think? Isn't practice itself a worthy use of one's time?" "Not if they aren't successful." Heaving a silent sigh through his nose, the heir eventually muttered "We'll have to agree to disagree. I believe duelling's purpose isn't always to win, but to learn from the experience, bettering one's self through application." It was a reasonable enough reply, one she couldn't rightfully debate without risking class, so Odette mulled the matter before abruptly suggesting: "You and I should duel." Pericles scoffed. He couldn't help it, the sound slipped out before he could think twice. What he did do deliberately was drone in the haughtiest impression ever: "I hardly think that would be appropriate."

That struck a chord. Odette hadn't exactly expected snark back from the mild-mannered boy, and she wasn't one to tolerate being mocked. She stopped, hands curling into loose fists at her sides as she snapped, "That isn't what I sound like." Pericles reeled around to face her, his harsh eye contact, sudden scowl, and directness all too uncharacteristic."It is to me. You might be my guest, but this is my house. There are rules you're meant to follow, too." The Vaillancourt girl had wanted to coax something out of him, yet didn't seem satisfied with what she got. There came over her an obvious, frankly unexpected discomfort, as if she didn't know how to deal with a direct callout. She lapsed into silence as her arms wove into a self-soothing fold. It could have been a part of her game. She could be capitalizing on his good nature, taking advantage of his innate desire for peace. It wouldn't matter if she was: he had a point to make, and he wasn't about to let this nonsense go on all evening. He held up his hands and spoke softer, albeit with a somber, serious firmness. "I understand if you didn't want to come here. I know what it feels like to be dragged along for these things." Odette's frown deepened. She searched his expression for something, though didn't seem to find what she was looking for. Cautiously she asked, "Do you know why my father brought me along?" Pericles stared back cluelessly. Wasn't it obvious? "They expect us to be business partners a decade from now." Her frown deepened as her eye averted to a nearby hedge. "Something like that." His forehead furrowed. He waited for a follow-up that didn't come before resuming a go at making peace, insisting on a much gentler note, "I didn't ask for this either, you know. The least we can do is try to make the most of it, without wasting one another's time." Peri held out his hand with an upturned palm. "Truce?" She looked at it, then up to him, giving a shake more delicate than her first. "For now."

September '23 - January '24

Theirs was a hard-earned alliance, as relationships between Geminis and Capricorns can be. Pericles considered Odette to be stiff and unimaginative, while she thought him unconventional and eclectic. Yet their truce laid the foundation for a tentative friendship. Over time, they found comfort in their differences. He taught her flexibility, she showed him a thing or two about holding his ground. They met again that summer, wrote through the fall, and visited three more times during Winter break, including a special trip to Spain for a Vaillancourt gathering. They two sat on the sidelines for the bulk of it. He sipped some fizzing mocktail while waiting for the night to end, while she watched attendees like a hawk, whispering tidbits of gossip. That family owed a tremendous debt to this one, those two were snubbing an old ally for refusing a contract, et cetera, et cetera. Pericles muttered unhelpful comments from behind his glass. How interesting. Strange. I would have never guessed. Eventually tiring of his non-answers, Odette commented curtly: "You can't be assed, can you?" "I don't see why I should be." "You don't need to delight in all this, you know, but you could at least be aware of it. Like it or no, navigating pureblood politics calls for focus. That is unless," she slid a sideways squint his way, that one indigo eye gleaming, "you really do intend on running your father's shipping company into the ground, like they say you are." Pericles spluttered mid-drink, coughing green liquid back into his glass. He eventually managed a strained "What? Who? Who's 'they'?" Ode gave a coy shrug. "It's easier to circulate speculations about someone through the grapevine, when that someone never takes part in it. You aren't exactly setting yourself up as an eligible bachelor by staying out of it all." Pericles shot her a dry look, eyes hooded and frown lopsided in disdain. "I'm fifteen. I'm not trying to... plan along those lines." "You have Hogwarts exams this year, don't you? Tests which influence a career you won't have 'til years from now?" "That's different." "Not as much as you might think. Being a poor player doesn't get you out of the game, Pear."

They had a knack for callouts, though these became considerably less hostile than those pitched back and forth in their initial meeting. Peri had begun chipping away at Ode's prickly exterior, and was pleased to find an incredibly intelligent, insightful witch underneath the protective front. He would soon find out why it as put up in the first place. Despite his teenage phases, dating hadn't been on his mind. The thought always unsettled him, but then, his key frame of reference was his parents. They were obsessed with one another. If he couldn't bring himself to feel the same way over someone- perpetual doting, slinging praise and gifts on sight- would it be good enough? Would it be real? Conflicted and intimidated, he had avoided the concept altogether. Yet his last encounter with Ode had inspired a new way of thinking. What if it didn't have to be that way? What if there was another approach to take? He hadn't been ready before, but they had already moved on from such a horrible introduction to the start of a pleasant friendship, and he was of an age where he wondered if it might turn into something more. This meeting started out the same as the others: their fathers met, exchanged short pleasantries with either heir, then left the two to their own devices. They chatted on about class and such before he built up the courage. "There'll be another cross-school ball in the Spring. I was thinking we ought to go together." It was nonchalant enough, though there was no ignoring the hint of hope to his tone.

Taken-aback, Odette held his stare for several seconds before bluntly clarifying, "As friends, or as dates?" He gave a useless shrug. "Which would you prefer?" The witch rolled her eye and crossed her arms. "Pericles, you're good company, but you need to be more direct. I'll spare you and say I'm not interested in the romantic company of men." No sooner had the truth been told before she wore an expression of fear, one that better showed her actual age, adding "Don't tell my dad." Peri's eyes went wide. Whatever disappointment he experienced was immensely short-lived, ultimately dwarfed by the fact that she was hiding something so significant from her father. "I'm sorry, Ode. I had no idea. Thank you for being direct." Eager to move on, Odette huffed with that faux smugness of hers, "Why would I be anything else?" He took the bait and played along, saying with an uneasy smirk, "I suppose I shouldn't expect you to try and spare my feelings." "Being straightforward does spare feelings! If I wanted to be a terror, I would have said yes and led you on." Pericles had the suspicion that's what she did with her more obnoxious suitors. She went on to jab rhetorically, "What do you do when someone you don't want shows interest in you?" This time, his response came so immediately, so offhandedly, that it couldn't have been part of the bit. "I usually ignore the behavior, act the same as always, or avoid them entirely until they get bored and move on." Odette arched an eyebrow high. "Coming from you, that's incredibly careless. I hope that was sarcasm." "It-...." He looked her way to see if she was still playing, only to be met with a deadly serious frown that sent his thoughts inward. Pericles recalled the times he'd pretended not to notice a heavy-handed compliment, a smile always accompanied by a blush, touches to his arm and looks that lasted a little too long. He hadn't wanted to see them for what they were, so instead of denying anyone outright, he ignored them again, and again, and again. He had coldly, emptily carried on as if it meant nothing. Odette, nettling as she could be, had the grace to say no and everything was fine. He wasn't embarrassed or hurt, but relieved. How had his ice prince act made others feel in contrast? "It wasn't."

The witch could see he was clearly working through some things. She spoke softer, pityingly patient, but still honest as ever. "You're perceptive, Pear. The only reason you don't notice some things is because you don't want to. You really don't know why my father keeps bringing me around?" The young warlock gave another shrug and shook his head. "To ensure a long-term alliance between our businesses." Odette watched with folded arms and a frown that grew by the second. Pericles knew that look by now. His stomach sank as he gradually put the pieces together. Her father didn't know about her "inclinations". She had been prickly when they met, eager to put him off, and had brought up that very same question at the start. Odette knew he finally got it when she saw the gleam of terror in his eyes. "That's a barbaric, outdated cliche. They wouldn't." "Your father wouldn't. That's why mine is tiptoeing around it." "We need to stop this." "How do you expect to do that?" "Indirectly. It's what I'm good at." He suddenly sported a smirk so scheming that Odette realized she must be rubbing off on him. "I'll act so charmless, he'll call things off himself." "I'm not going to let you embarrass yourself. I want in." "Then we call off the truce, act like we hate each other." "That shouldn't be difficult." No... no, it shouldn't. What do you say we have that duel?" The day hadn't gone how Pericles planned. His objective redirected so hard that he went from asking Odette out on a date, to going out of his way to ensure they didn't wind up in an arranged marriage.

January '24

Even in the midst of this particular crisis, Pericles couldn't help but be distracted by a sneaking suspicion. Something was eating at him. It started as a nibble, a nagging little thought, but began breaking skin once the teeth of realization sunk in. As he and the Vaillancourt girl charged deliberately through winding hedges, he broke the silence. "Ode...? Do you think my da knew what yours intended?" Odette continued to look ahead, but spared a sharp sidelong glance to gauge if the question was a serious one. Boys could be painfully clueless, even the clever ones. "You're asking me what your dad knows?" "You think more like he does." The comparison was solemn; a great deal of what he had come to understand about pureblood tactics, Pericles had learned from the Beauxbatons witch. Her jaded yet blunt revelations had cast even his own parent into a dubious light. "Well... speaking statistically, and from experience... does he regularly allow you to spend time alone with anyone who isn't the child of a potential business partner?"

The heir grimaced. He had always believed the only reason no one was around was because of dear old dad's "condition", but Isaac was an innovative man with a broad spectrum of connections. What if the years of isolation had been intentional? "No." Ode shrugged, stating plainly: "We're inheritors, Pear. Legatees of a dying breed, revolving around lofty concepts like 'upholding tradition' and 'responsibility'. Our parents must be meticulous with their lines if the legacy's to abide. Isn't the Dralt motto something about blood?" "It's about trusting one another," he retorted, earning an arched eyebrow, but he wasn't angry with Ode. He was angry at the idea that he had been a piece in a game. That sinking sensation renewed as he started to explain, only to reconsider the origin story in a new light. We Trust in the Blood, Latin words emblazoned on nigh every shield hanging in the estate halls, had been construed through a tale of triumph. A bastard underdog had secured his station generations ago, winning the respect of a predecessor on his deathbed. The young warlock now realized it had all the credulity of a bedtime story. Even if his father didn't scheme to secure a match, he had still dangled Pericles on a societal hook to snag a deal. A bitter seed planted itself in his heart. When he was an eleven-year-old entering Hogwarts, he innocently assigned adults to pedestals, devout in the belief that they knew best and could do no wrong. He could hardly meet a professor's eye back then, heralding grownups as absolute authorities. The horrors of Hogwarts had diminished that delusion. While he respected many of the staff, he had also witnessed adults being conspirators, frauds, and- frankly- humans just as capable of error as any other. What if dad wasn't so perfect either...?

Introspection ended as they arrived at the garden's edge. Odette and Pericles stood alongside one another, staring up at the parlor window, finding the words for a goodbye. The Ravenclaw cast a glum look towards the Ombrelune. "I don't imagine we'll be seeing each other for some time after this stunt." Prickly when forced to feel things, Ode tried to glower at him, managing only a brief glare before his heartfelt sorrow elicited a sigh. "I don't imagine we will," she mumbled in agreement. "You shouldn't write, either. Dad likes to screen my letters- he thinks I can't recognize mended seals." Peri's frown twinged towards something miserable. Months of writing, visiting, and spectating from the sidelines of soirees as kindred wallflowers was coming to an abrupt end. He thought about closing the gap for an awkward side hug, but decided against it. Being seen would spoil the impending performance. Instead he murmured: "It was fun being friends with you while we could." Odette pulled a face, started to say something, then promptly pretended to shove him before storming off. As she turned around, she whipped her wand from its sheath, ordering "Wizards first."

"Flipendo." The carefully aimed spell careened past her, an artful miss, shattering a ceramic pot with a crash that carried over the grounds. Odette retaliated with a barked "Aqua Eructo." Suddenly, a jet of pressurized water was trailing Pericles, forcing him to vault over a hedge and roll behind a statue for cover. When the stream tapered off, he stuck his head out from behind the likeness of some great-great-grand-whatever, hissing "You're supposed to miss!" She shrugged and took aim again. By the time both Dralt and Vaillancourt progenitors looked out to assess the commotion, Odette could be found hiding from a localized thunderstorm beneath a stone bench while Pericles fended off a murder of conjured crows. Their fathers were sufficiently pissed. Demands for explanations turned all too quickly into slung accusations, and for a moment, the heirs were in the unique position of flipping the script. For once, they were pulling strings. Blame turned to declarations of fractured partnership, and as tension rose with the word "beastly" being batted back and forth, it started to look like the dads were about to have a fight of their own. Ode interjected with the demand to go home. Final sneers and snark exchanged, partnerships came to an end, though the heirs glanced back while being dragged in opposite directions. The witch mouthed a mute Bye, and the wizard waved once before his friend was consumed in Floo flames, only half hearing Isaac's seething.

Fin.