Feed You My Heart Solo Finished

Banner by @Clément Guillaume Cantegrel!
This is part of Aly's Cast the Bronze storyline. You can find other portions here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

So I don't feed you my heart well enough...

What a beautiful September morning it had turned out to be. The air was crisp with that slightly biting autumn chill as Aly took a stroll out to the Owlery during breakfast time, a letter clutched in her hand. It was nothing special - entering some competition Witch Weekly had announced in their latest edition - but to send in pictures of herself was, admittedly, slightly embarrassing, so the Ravenclaw teenager had skipped the morning meal in favour of doing this at a time when no one else would be in the feather-infested, dropping-covered tower. She would be missing the standard breakfast post arrival, but Aly didn't receive many letters very often these days, so she was none too worried about it. If she did receive anything, it would probably be naught but a new copy of the Prophet or junk mail about how to get rid of lesions - nothing important, and certainly nothing urgent.

She took the stairs to the winding, rickety tower two at a time, even hopping the last three entirely, though her short legs complained at that. It was neither difficult nor time-consuming to find an owl - a tawny thing with brilliant amber eyes - and paste the letter securely to its leg, and the steady supply of owl treats stashed in various places around the tower made it easy to bribe the messenger to go on its way. Aly was about to head back down the stairs and meander down the hill back to the castle - a nice, big bowl of Pixie Puffs sounded excellent right about now - when an indignant squawk came from behind her. Though various hoots and other birdlike noises were not anywhere near an uncommon occurrence whilst in this rickety place, there was something rather different about this particular screech that made Aly simply have to turn and look.

The owl upon the perch behind her had clearly just arrived, as it ruffled its feathers and preened into a settled position. Huge and dark, with shiny black feathers indicative of being a personal and well-cared-for pet, its golden eyes regarded her somehow in an annoyed fashion, as if Aly was taking up too much of its precious time simply by existing in its general vicinity. The teenager was about to roll her eyes and walk away - whatever problem this owl had, it clearly wasn't about to become hers - when her emerald gaze fell upon the post attached to its clawed foot. The package itself was not large, but tied to it lay a shimmering mother-of-pearl envelope, complete with an emerald green seal that looked all too familiar: snakes and gems, coiled in a rich, deadly embrace.

Mother's family's seal.

Aly had become decently acquainted with the Livingston side of her heritage over the summer; from an impromptu Gringotts visit in the biggest vault she'd ever seen to her very own debutante ball complete with a custom designer gown from some up-and-coming Italian brand. The pearls she now wore every day around her slender neck were a constant reminder that, to some, she was more now than she ever had been before. More important, more beautiful. More worthy. And certainly a whole lot richer, if that gold-encrusted vault had anything to say about it. The seal was recognisable now, and brought with it a bit less dread than before, though there was certainly still an impending feeling of doom attached to the package. Aly had been at school for nearly three weeks without so much as a hint of a letter from her matriarchal side of the family. What was so important for them to send to her now? What had she done wrong?

Cautiously, the Ravenclaw approached the owl and gently took the package and letter from its angular leg. When she tried to offer it owl treats, however, the creature turned its nose - er, beak - up at them and simply turned to flap out the window as if it had never set foot in this dirty place. Aly didn't blame it; she wasn't the biggest fan of the Owlery herself. Still, she stayed there to open the letter in case she needed to pen a hasty response, simply retreating halfway down the staircase so that she could take a seat on the stone steps without worrying about getting owl pellets crushed all over the back of her exquisite suede skirt. The parchment unfolded, beautifully and delicately, in her shaking hands; the words within were penned in fine calligraphy, the ink as deep and rich of a forest green as the wax on the outside.

Madam Darcy Livingston
Livingston Family Manor
England, UK
18^th September, 2025

Ms. Alyssa Livingston
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Scottish Highlands, Scotland, UK

Our dearest Alyssa,
Your grandfather and I were most pleased to hear of the upcoming ball at Hogwarts. As I am sure you are aware, 'tis social events such as these which form the backbone of our society, even when you are away finishing your final year of schooling. While you are unable to attend any events away from the institute, please know that you are expected to represent your heritage well at the ball of the Enchanted Depths. (What tawdry themes the school hosts these days.)

In order to properly showcase your lineage and blood purity, as well as your eligibility as a youthful and quite beautiful bachelorette, I have enclosed the gown and jewelry you are to wear to this event. The garment has been custom-made for your measurements and uses only the finest Alençon lace and French silk tulle; I recommend you try it on before the night of the ball itself so that you may practice walking in it, as such a ballgown's skirt can be quite difficult upon first attempt. The jewelry is from your grandfather's personal collection. Both the earrings and rivière were crafted by his hand decades ago, so do treat them with care and never be seen without them both accessorising your gown.

Additionally, and in quite an exciting fashion, I have taken it upon myself to secure for you a proper young gentleman who shall be escorting you to the gathering. He is called Barnabas Vidal, of the Valencia Vidals; he is in his final year at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and his family has most graciously agreed to allow you to be on his arm for this event. The Vidal family are quite exceptional purveyors of antique goods, and your grandfather has dealt with them many times in the acquisition of heirloom gemstones. As such, you are to treat the young Señor Vidal with his deserved respect, as he shall do unto you. Who knows--perhaps the two of you may a fine pairing make one day. For now, however, it is simply passable for those of our status who may be in attendance to see you accompanied by such a young man of high quality.

You are to meet the Señor Vidal at the statue of the Architect of Hogwarts in the front hall twenty minutes before the commencement of the ball--no more, and certainly no less. From there, he shall escort you the rest of the way. You must smile at all times, and keep in mind those lessons which the honourable Lady Prudence taught you--even at a Hogwarts soirée, there are sure to be cameras about.

Oh, and do take some photographs of your own to send back to us. Your great-grandfather has requested that, at least.

Fare thee well,
Grandmother Livingston

Aly wasn't quite sure how she found herself on the floor, but by the end of the letter, she had somehow collapsed against the rough stone wall of the owlery staircase and slid all the way to a sitting position. What she had expected was - well, she hadn't expected anything in particular, but she most definitely had not expected this to come out of her first letter from her only living grandmother. There was no "hello" or "how are you" or "tell us of your life at school" or "here are some fresh-baked cookies I've sent along with my ridiculously large beast of an owl", but rather, instructions - nay, orders as to with whom she would attend the ball and exactly what she was to wear. Not that Aly had had a date - she'd been intending to go stag, perhaps get ready with her friends in Ravenclaw Tower and then go as a large group all together - but she had certainly already been putting together ideas as to what she would wear to the Enchanted Depths since its announcement just four short days before.

Aly shook her head in disbelief, her heart thumping quickly in her chest. How did they manage to put this all together in four- she caught sight of the date on which the letter had been sent- No, two days???

Any idea of the gowns she'd already begun to sketch out in the margins of her Potions homework - wired tulle arches in varying shades of blue, a pastel green sheath with a glimmering transparent cape, and even gold filigree atop enchanted waves themselves - fizzled away in her mind. There would be no trip to Gladrags, no commission of her own design to which she had so been looking forward. Still, the curly-haired eaglet tried to keep a positive attitude as she untied the (admittedly way too small) package she'd taken from the creature's leg minutes before. The debutante dress was quite lovely; perhaps a little uncomfortable, but I can deal with that. Surely Grandmother and Lady Prudence will have selected something of equal beauty...

The marshmallow dress that poofed out of the package as soon as she pulled out the first bit of fabric, however - the wrapping must have been enchanted for simply how much tulle and lace and silk was part of this monstrosity - immediately dulled any such hope. It was more like a wedding gown than a ball's dress, Aly reflected as she held it up to her torso. The stitching did seem as though it would fit her like a glove, with its corseted waist and off-the-shoulder ruffle, but if someone had told her that the whole thing was made of cake she would have believed them. Layers and layers and layers and layers of fabric made the skirt easily as wide as Aly was tall. Now she understood why her grandmother had advised practicing walking in the thing - it was, at its core, truly horrible.

And yet Aly knew there was no fight. There would be no other dress, just as there would be no other date, even if she was miraculously asked by another. At this point, she thought as she carefully stuffed the awful eyesore of a gown back into its tiny package, I'll just have to hope this Barnabas fellow is more handsome than this dress is vile.

But I don't need any part of your love...

The Owlery | September 20^th, 2025 | outfit/hair, necklace | #C47DDB