What if: Slytherin Ashlyn

[Ashlyn Swallow G5]

First Year

Ashlyn sits primly on the stool as Professor McGonagall sets the hat atop her head, hands folded neatly in her lap and ankles tucked together against one of the legs. She’s dressed impeccably for the Sorting ceremony, long blonde curls cascading down the back of her perfectly unwrinkled black robe. She has a job to do, one last thing she has to accomplish before her parents release her to live with Jigger in the house that her uncle had left to her. Convincing the Hat to put her in Gryffindor will be the performance of a lifetime, she thinks nervously, far more difficult than even the trickiest concerto she has ever struggled to learn. She isn’t brave or courageous or any of the things that Gryffindors are lauded as. She doesn’t know why her parents want her there so badly - certainly they’ve never expressed much of an interest in any other parts of her life - but she hadn’t dared ask. Even at eleven years old, she knows better than to ask her parents questions.

“Such a troubled young one,” a voice murmurs in her head, so soft and sympathetic that Ashlyn can feel herself bristle behind her careful smile. “So young and already so independent. We'll have to be careful about where we put you. Slytherin,” the Hat muses, “or perhaps Ravenclaw. Either would suit you well. There's drive and ambition in you, a desire to learn, although perhaps that's because you've already begun to understand the importance of knowledge more than because of a true love of learning. You would find a place to call your own in either House, with people to smooth those rough edges of yours. Slytherin, I think; they’ll know best what to do with you and you could do very well there.”

Ashlyn inhales steadily, her rebuttal already rehearsed on the train journey to the castle, but her blue eyes catch on a sea of green-edged robes and the argument dies on her tongue. She wants Slytherin so badly that it almost hurts, desperately wants the camaraderie and the friendships that the Hat hints at. She’s been so lonely since her uncle died but her parents made it clear that she won’t like the consequences if she doesn’t follow their orders in this. “They’ll be so mad at me,” she murmurs under her breath, conviction wavering for the slightest moment. “I can't.”

The Hat seems to almost huff indignantly. “You aren’t doing anything, child,” it assures her with a gentleness that makes her hands shake. “Parents seem to forget this entirely too often but placing students into the Houses that will most suit them is entirely my purview and it is my opinion that you will be best served in SLYTHERIN.”

Defiance doesn’t taste as sweet as she had imagined it might, Ashlyn finds as she takes slow, measured steps towards the Slytherin table. If anything, it tastes more like fear, thick and viscous as it coats the inside of her mouth. Her parents won’t be happy about this, not one bit.

***

Her dorm-mates are quiet and reserved, Ashlyn learns over the next few weeks, but so is she and so they all get along quite well. They’re all purebloods, unsurprisingly. Two of them wrinkle their noses at her family name and keep a polite distance but the other three are cautiously welcoming and so Ashlyn settles into her new daily routine with little fuss. She has someone to sit next to in class and at meals and the girls are quick to utilise her quick understanding of the Charms homework in exchange for help with her Transfiguration spells. It isn’t quite what she had pictured when the Hat was talking about finding where she would belong but Ashlyn listens to the uproarious chaos from the Gryffindors and is quietly certain that she made the right decision. This isn’t home yet but it could be.

Clara Sinclair, a second year who has mousy brown hair but coolly assessing green eyes, thaws her chilly demeanour enough to adopt Ashlyn into her little clique of first and second year girls after the first time she overhears Ashlyn play the violin. They’re mean and catty in a way that makes her want to shrink away from their toxicity but they're also more than happy to show off more advanced spells than Ashlyn finds in her textbooks and the Sinclair name is one that Ashlyn vaguely remembers from her uncle's stories. They’re involved in the music business somehow, which is exactly where Ashlyn sees her future, so she bites her tongue and learns to smile prettily when the older girls comment enviously on her hair.

The letter from her parents doesn’t arrive until the end of November. She doesn't know how they found out - certainly she hasn’t told them, hasn’t written to them even once - but Ashlyn opens the parchment with hands that determinedly do not tremble and swallows a mouthful of breakfast that has turned to ash in her mouth. The quiet chatter of her acquaintances continues around her as if this is just a normal morning but she suddenly knows beyond any doubt that she should have taken their deal and sentenced herself to seven years as a Gryffindor. It would have been an easier fate than whatever is waiting for her at her parents' house.

We have been informed of your decision to renege on the agreement you entered with us over the summer. You will thusly return to our custody at every school holiday so that we can ensure you have not learnt any unsavoury behaviours from your new compatriots.

Please note that all agreements previously made regarding your uncle's house are now null and void; the wards have been raised to refuse entry to anyone who does not bear the Ellison name. We have dispatched Jigger to the residence as its sole caretaker and he will not be recalled to our service during his lifetime.

We trust that you are satisfied with the consequences of your choice.

***

“You’ve somehow grown even less interesting than you were before,” Clara announces a few days after they all return to school in the new year. “I don’t know how you managed it, Swallow, I truly don’t.”

Ashlyn blinks at the older girl placidly, teeth biting into her cheek behind her bland expression. She knows better than to speak in her own defence, no matter how much it rankles to be dismissed in such a way; her parents have made it painfully clear that she isn’t to associate with the rest of her House any longer and Ashlyn holds no illusions that she can keep a deception of such magnitude from them. The Hat had lied when it promised her friendships and a place to call her own, she thinks bitterly. Or perhaps it hadn’t factored in her parents but lies arising from poor judgement are no different to any other type of lie. There’s no solace in thinking that the Sorting Hat hadn’t meant to lie and mislead her, not when she’s living with the aftermath of heeding its words. The motivation doesn’t alter the outcome.

“Oh, do go away.” Clara flicks a hand at her dismissively, already turning her attention to some of the other girls gathered around her in their corner of the common room. Only one of her dorm-mates catches Ashlyn's gaze, silently encouraging her to say something to get back in Clara's good graces, but the blonde simply lifts her shoulders in a shrug and turns away as if it doesn’t matter to her whether she stays or goes. She can’t rely on the other girls for help with Transfiguration anymore so the library is as good a place as any to retreat to.

She’s used to being alone, Ashlyn reminds herself with a wince as her back twinges in protest. Here or in Gryffindor or in her parents' house. It’s all the same. Nothing ever changes, not really. She had a few months of happiness and companionship, which is more than she’s ever had before. Those months had been lovely and she’ll miss the warm moments of friendship and the easy chatter but those things aren’t worth the price she's had to pay for them, especially not when her parents have made it clear that this was only a gentle warning. Only six and a half years left, Ashlyn thinks mirthlessly. Six and a half years of no friends, no conversation, no companionship. Piece of cake.

[Ashlyn Swallow G5]

Third Year

The next two years pass slowly but Ashlyn keeps her head down and remains separate from the girls with whom she had once entertained a dream of friendship. It’s lonely, which is somehow far worse now that she’s had a taste of what her life could have been like, but third year has introduced her to Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, both of which are subjects that Ashlyn finds she excels at, and the long hours in her own company have given her ample time to explore the castle. There’s a small room tucked away in an unused corner of the dungeons that Ashlyn shamelessly co-opted as her own little hideaway towards the end of her first year. If nothing else, she thinks humourlessly, she may never have discovered this room if she hadn’t been Sorted into Slytherin and then where would she practice her music?

“Oh, you're very good!”

An impressed voice cuts through her concentration and Ashlyn almost drops her violin as she whirls around, blue eyes wide and accusatory as she stares at the girl intruding on her safe haven. It’s a weekend so the girl isn’t wearing school robes, instead clad in jeans and a fluffy white jumper that’s almost comically large on her, but she’s obviously a Slytherin. No one from any other House would have ventured so far into the dungeons.

“I interrupted,” the girl remarks apologetically, her lilting accent stark against the otherwise silent room, but nevertheless hops up onto one of the desks pushed to the side of the room. “I’m Nieve, by the way. Nieve Cielo Ramírez. My sister and cousins have gone to Hogsmeade without me because I’m not allowed to go until next year so I was exploring and I heard you playing. You’re very good,” she says again and fixes expectant dark eyes on Ashlyn, who visibly flounders under the scrutiny. “You should continue,” she prompts after a few long moments of awkward silence. “I enjoyed it and there’s still an hour or so before dinner. You can come sit with me and my family at the Ravenclaw table,” she declares decisively. “Larisa enjoys music too and I think it would be good for you.”

Ashlyn stares wordlessly for a few seconds, the neck of the violin still gripped loosely in her fingers, before a chivvying gesture from the newest occupant of the room wakes her from her stupor. It’s easier to just resume playing than to argue, she thinks, quietly dazed. And anyway, it isn’t unpleasant to hear someone appreciating her music for once. She hasn’t played for other people since she parted ways with the other girls in their first year.

***

Nieve becomes an almost permanent fixture in the room shortly afterwards, either trailing after Ashlyn from the common room or popping up unannounced and perching on the edge of a table. She eventually wheedles Ashlyn into transfiguring one of the wooden desk chairs into something more comfortable, only to promptly let out a truly unladylike snort of laughter at the deformed mix of wooden seat and plush armchair that sits in front of them.

“I’m sure it's very comfortable,” Nieve tells Ashlyn consolingly. It’s harder than it should be to keep a straight face and the corner of her mouth twitches upwards a few times but she presses her lips together as she swallows back laughter. Poor Ashlyn looks absolutely mortified, her pale cheeks flushing a shade of red that Nieve really doesn’t think is healthy.

“I’m not very good at Transfiguration,” Ashlyn mutters with a mutinous huff, narrowing her eyes at the chair as if it had deliberately sabotaged her. “Why are you always here anyway?” she demands tempestuously, turning abruptly on Nieve in her flustered embarrassment. “Why don’t you have friends to spend time with? You’re always here bothering me!”

Nieve scowls, dark eyes flashing with hurt and irritation. “Don’t take it out on me just because you can’t do something,” she snaps, and nods imperiously when Ashlyn's body language slowly fades from confrontational to something more sheepish. “I wasn’t making fun of you,” Nieve promises softly, almost apologetic. “It just really is funny. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. If it makes you feel any better, I can tell you about the time I almost fell off my broom during flying class in first year - I felt like a fool for weeks afterwards but Larisa told me that no one is good at everything and everyone does silly things sometimes. It’s not the end of the world to not get something right first time. We’re not Ravenclaws after all,” she finishes with a grin and bumps her shoulder against Ashlyn's companionably.

***

Christmas with her parents is a dismal affair, as it always is. Ashlyn returns to their home as she does for every holiday and is greeted with a frosty welcome and the usual sharp interrogation about her social interactions with the other students. Ashlyn doesn’t mention Nieve or her sister and has to remind herself to breathe for the long seconds during which her mother examines her with sharp eyes.

“Very well,” Lindsay Swallow mutters dismissively, already turning away from her only daughter. “Disappointing that you haven’t managed to connect with anyone of a good family but what else am I to expect of you? You never have succeeded in living up to expectations. Your father and I will be in Switzerland for Christmas. Your presence won’t be needed so you’ll stay here with a house-elf. Don't leave the manor until it’s time for you to return to school - and do try not to inconvenience anyone while you’re here.”

Ashlyn bows her head, biting down on the urge to ask exactly who she could possibly inconvenience when she’s to be the only person in the house for the next two weeks or so. “Yes, Mother,” she murmurs quietly instead. “Have a good Christmas.”

***

...You should come to us for a day or two during the Christmas break, Nieve's cheerfully looping script entreats a few days later, reiterating an invitation she had extended many times in the weeks leading up to the holiday and yet again on the Hogwarts Express. Mamá has found the most incredible little bakery somewhere that makes an amazingly delicious Roscón de Reyes - I’ll try to save some so that you can try it even if you can’t come to us but Aurelio is being a greedy little monster and thinks that he can eat it all! Please do say that you’ll come, Ashlyn. My parents would love to meet you and I can’t wait to introduce you to the beauty of Spain, it really is so much prettier than the cold Highlands of Scotland that we have to suffer through!

***

Nieve gives her the cold shoulder for almost a full week once they return to school, dark eyes sulky and hurt on the few occasions that she doesn’t just look right past Ashlyn as if she doesn’t exist. Some of the other young Slytherin girls cluster around her like a protective guard and Ashlyn is torn between regret and the urge to roll her eyes. She hadn’t meant to hurt Nieve's feelings but her mother's orders had been explicit. The elderly house-elf left to watch over her would have had no choice but to report to her parents if Ashlyn had left the manor and she really doesn’t want to live through another Christmas like the one in her first year. Once had been more than enough to drive the message home - disobedience simply isn’t an option.

“I was supposed to be a Gryffindor,” Ashlyn offers simply when Nieve finally returns to the hideaway that has somehow become theirs rather than just Ashlyn's. She’ll never say so but she’s missed the younger girl quite terribly. There’s nothing else that could drive her to willingly make herself vulnerable to another person. “My parents never forgave me for not doing as I was told, as if being Sorted into Slytherin could possibly be my fault.”

Nieve's shoes scuff against the stone floor as she moves forward but Ashlyn doesn’t expect the arms that wind around her waist or the warmth of Nieve's cheek against hers. “Your parents...they aren’t good people, are they?” Ashlyn shakes her head wordlessly and has to blink back tears as she feels Nieve's grip tighten around her in response. “Let me help,” she pleads fiercely, fingers digging into Ashlyn's back when the blonde tenses as if to pull away. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’re just kids. We don’t have to do this by ourselves. That’s what adults are for. They’re supposed to look after us - I don’t think your parents are very good at that but mine really, really are and I promise that they’ll help but we have to tell them first. Please let them help.”

***

Nieve never brings the subject up again, although she sometimes darts cautious glances at Ashlyn from under her lashes, but she clings to the blonde all the more tightly as winter fades into spring. She tugs Ashlyn over to the Ravenclaw table for meals more often than not, pressing her down between herself and her sister like self-appointed bodyguards. Larisa never comments on the change - or at least not where Ashlyn can hear. The Ravenclaw prefect just slings an arm over Ashlyn's shoulders companionably and somehow always has a lighthearted, entertaining story about some mishap during her day that has the friends she surrounds them with giggling within minutes. Neither of the siblings ever mention the way Ashlyn takes a moment to relax into their touch but they share a dark-eyed glance of satisfied relief when she stops shying away from them.

Clara Sinclair is still holding court over a posse of Slytherin girls in the same corner of the common room, as if no time has passed between the last time Ashlyn was in the older girl's orbit. Ashlyn gives her a wary stare when Nieve's firm hand on her shoulder forces her into a chair but the fourth year just arches a plucked eyebrow and assesses her with that same cool green gaze before tipping her head to the side.

“Do you still play?” Clara inquires mildly, as if they’re childhood friends who haven’t seen each other in a long time. “My parents are holding a party over the summer for up and coming musical talent. A lot of the people invited work with more contemporary styles but my godfather has a taste for classical. He might enjoy meeting you.”

It’s a warmer welcome than she had expected after two years of frosty indifference but Ashlyn doesn’t mistake it for kindness. She isn’t from a family that her peers respect but Nieve is and the younger Slytherin has displayed a clear preference for her company over the year. It’s galling to be trading on someone else's social capital but Ashlyn lifts her chin even as she swallows her pride. “I do still play,” she confirms lightly, and knows that her best friend is smirking without even needing to look. The smug pride is practically emanating from her. “Larisa Ramírez has requested that I play something of my own composition for her birthday in a few weeks. Perhaps you can get a preview of my musical style there, if you’re in attendance.”

***

“That was brilliant!” Nieve cackles later that night, once the common room is empty of everyone but four boys in the opposite corner. Ashlyn vaguely recognises them, dubiously thinks that perhaps one of the Ravenclaws is in her year, and Nieve certainly knows the younger two based on the familiar way she had glanced up at their entrance and waved cheerfully. It’s past curfew so the two Ravenclaws definitely shouldn’t be in the dungeons but they should all technically be in bed so Ashlyn is content to leave them be as long as they extend the same courtesy. “If you’re in attendance,” she mimics with a giggle, utterly failing at copying Ashlyn's voice but clearly unconcerned by the inaccuracy of her rendition. “You know full well that she isn’t going to be there - why would Larisa ever bother with Sinclair, of all people? The only thing my sister wants to do with that twit is give her detention.”

Ashlyn ducks her head to hide her smile, blonde curls falling over her right shoulder with the movement. “I don’t believe for a moment that your sister even knows who she is,” she remarks gleefully, “but she certainly knows who Larisa is. Did you see her face? She was furious that you’ve ignored her all year and taken up with me instead.”

“She deserves it,” Nieve announces with a haughty toss of her head that doesn’t quite detract from the quick flicker of her eyes to the group of boys across the room or the pout threatening to pull at her mouth. “She was quite hideously rude to me in front of...someone and I didn’t appreciate it at all.”

***

They don’t talk about it but Ashlyn steps off the train at the end of her third year with Nieve's arm around her waist guiding her over to a dark-haired woman and a young boy who both look far too much like Nieve to not be related. The woman greets both of her daughters with a hug and a kiss pressed to their foreheads before turning to Ashlyn. She wears rings on several fingers of both hands and they're warm against Ashlyn's skin when Nieve's mother grasps her hands loosely.

“I’m Isadora Ramírez,” she murmurs, her voice soft and low to avoid drawing undue notice from the crowds milling around them. The trio of siblings at their side provide a helpful cacophony of noise anyway as Aurelio reunites with his sisters for the first time in months, his voice excitedly telling them both about the small adventures he’s had while they were gone. “Nieve entrusted her sister with a missive which was passed to me in Hogsmeade at a lunch with my eldest daughter. Based on the information in her letter, I met with your parents and we came to an...arrangement, shall we say, wherein you will be spending your holidays with my family for the foreseeable future. I speak for both my husband and myself when I assure you that you are most welcome in our home,” she adds firmly when Ashlyn's mouth opens to protest. “There is a room already set aside for you in the south wing, where all of my children’s rooms are located, which you are of course free to decorate in whatever manner you wish. The house-elves shall be thrilled to arrange everything to your liking.”

Isadora runs a soft, motherly hand over Ashlyn's head when she finds herself speechless, her bottom lip trembling faintly. “We can speak again later, once you're settled in,” she promises before raising her voice very slightly to call her children back to order. “The portkey is timed to take us back home in less than a minute, darlings. If you aren’t ready then you'll be left here until I return in September.”

***

Life with the Ramírez family is both familiar and entirely alien, Ashlyn discovers over the summer.

Nieve's father is a tall, rather intimidating man with cold eyes that remind her of her father until his face lights up with a smile as Nieve squeals excitably and flings herself at him for a hug. Larisa laughs, hanging back briefly until her younger sister finishes an exuberant retelling of her entire year. “She’s a daddy's girl,” she tells Ashlyn warmly, “always has been. It comes in very useful for when one of us wants something that we know Mamá wouldn’t necessarily approve of: all we have to do is send Nieve in to bat her eyes and pout until he gives in. Not that we would ever manipulate our father in any way,” she adds hurriedly when she notices Isadora's arched eyebrow. “He would see right through any such attempts in a heartbeat and we of course respect his authority too much to even try.”

Isadora clearly doesn’t believe a word of it, which Ashlyn privately thinks is probably a wise decision, but she just rolls her eyes and sweeps forward to kiss her husband's cheek warmly. “Ashlyn, dear, come and meet Tomás,” she beckons, holding a hand out encouragingly. “Tomás, this is Nieve's friend, Ashlyn Swallow. She’s going to be staying with us during the school breaks from now on.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ashlyn,” Tomás rumbles cheerily. “We heard a lot about you over Christmas from Nieve. She tells us that you’re quite the accomplished violinist so I hope you’ll treat us to a little concert one night. My girls have never shown much interest in cultured pursuits so perhaps you’ll instill some appreciation for the fine arts in them.”

Nieve is quick to whisk her away after that, still huffing and pouting at being described as uncultured, and somewhere between being coaxed into picking out a colour scheme for her new bedroom and her sunburned skin finally deepening into a tan, Ashlyn is startled to realise that she feels as comfortable and welcomed here as she does in Hogwarts. She knows her way around this large house, she realises one morning on her way down to breakfast. She knows that this hallway leads to the main stairs, that if she turns left then she’ll end up in the large ballroom that Nieve tells her is used for lavish parties every Christmas and important birthdays, or that she’ll reach the stone balconies that overlook Isadora's favourite courtyard, with the marble fountain and the crystal windchimes that Ashlyn can hear sometimes at night, if she goes down a small hidden staircase to her right. She knows which of the cooks will hand over small treats with a wink and which will usher the children out of the kitchens chidingly for getting underfoot, she knows that the entire household takes a break at certain points in the day because it’s too hot even for native Spaniards to work, and she knows that if Aurelio's tutor is furiously hunting for him then the boy is probably either in the swimming pool or hiding behind the shed near the tennis courts.

This feels like a home, she realises abruptly. It feels like the closest thing to family that she's ever had. Except...it isn’t her home, isn’t her family. She’s only here because Nieve feels sorry for her, Ashlyn knows, and that thought is almost enough to bring her to tears.

That’s how Isadora finds her, sniffling piteously behind an olive tree, and Ashlyn melts into the embrace despite her best attempts at resistance when the woman sweeps her into a hug. “I think perhaps it’s time we had that talk I promised,” she murmurs against Ashlyn's hair. “Come, we'll take breakfast in my courtyard so we can talk privately. I'll call for some sweet coffee and those bread rolls that you enjoy, and perhaps some fruit?”

Isadora leads her over to the large, overstuffed loveseat when they get to the courtyard, not breaking the fraught silence as she settles herself to face Ashlyn, drawing her knees up onto the cushions and tucking her feet underneath the edge of the gauzy ankle-length skirts that she favours while in her own home. Ashlyn mirrors the position after a moment, although her spine is noticeably stiffer and more tense. The breakfast items that had been mentioned earlier are already arrayed on a side table, which is an oddity that had ceased to surprise Ashlyn after a few days. Isadora's personal house-elf prefers not to be seen or heard by anyone and so, as far as Ashlyn can tell, simply lingers near his mistress at all times in anticipation of overhearing anything that she might need from him.

“You’ve been with us for a month now, darling, so I’m sure my children have mentioned by now that my work with charities would normally involve a lot of parties and social events hosted at the house,” Isadora begins, resting a gentle hand on Ashlyn's wrist when the blonde dips her head in a tentative nod. “I arranged for the events planned for this summer to take place at other venues after Nieve wrote to me asking for assistance, because I met with your parents and it became very clear to me that they are incapable of providing a nurturing home for anyone. I wouldn’t entrust my favourite pair of shoes to them, much less a child. And you are a child,” she adds firmly when Ashlyn shifts as if about to protest. “You are intelligent and headstrong and wonderfully mature but you're also just fourteen years old, sweetheart. You need structure and love and people whom you can trust as you grow into a young woman. Your parents are not those people, and I think you know that. They’ve spent a lifetime neglecting their responsibilities and forcing you to be a grown up long before you were ready. If you would allow us, Tomás and I would very much like to step in as your guardians, as your family, and help you to enjoy the remainder of your childhood before you begin to think about the shape of your future.”

Ashlyn's bottom lip has been trembling slightly throughout the conversation but she hesitates for a long moment when Isadora reaches out to her before rushing forward to bury her face against the woman’s shoulder, breathing in the sweet scent of jasmine that seems to follow Nieve's mother as she fights against the hot tears that burn in her eyes. The sensation of a kind hand carding gently through her hair proves to be the final straw, leaving Ashlyn in silent, inconsolable sobs that shake her whole body as Isadora brings her closer and murmurs soothing nonsense into her ear.

“You shall have the rest of the summer to relax and begin to heal,” Isadora promises once Ashlyn has cried herself out, using her thumbs to gently sweep away a few lingering droplets from her cheeks. Ashlyn blinks at her tiredly, too worn out to even feel embarrassed at the unfamiliar but wholly maternal gesture. “Larisa and I will have a few social obligations that we must attend to but Nieve is still too young to attend and you will of course stay at home with her and Aurelio. At Christmas, we shall take some time to discuss your dreams for the future and how Tomás and I can best help you to achieve them.

[Ashlyn Swallow G5]

“You invited who?” Ashlyn sputters, wide-eyed and flushed with embarrassment. “Why? Why would you do that to me?”

Larisa brushes a golden curl away from Ashlyn's eyes tenderly, dark brown eyes softly amused when she meets Ashlyn's gaze in the mirror as she fixes the tanzanite hair clips into the younger girl's hair with an approving nod. A tiara is a more traditional hairpiece at these events but Ashlyn had rejected the idea so firmly that no one had pressed further. Getting Ashlyn to express a firm preference, especially one that went against their initial wishes, had felt like victory enough without forcing a tiara on the girl's head. It isn’t strictly a proper quinceañera anyway since a) Ashlyn isn’t Spanish and b) it’s the summer after her fifth year so she’s already fifteen. “You join me at the Ravenclaw table for dinner at least twice a week,” she teases laughingly. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice where my little sister's eyes stray when she’s not paying attention? Even if he and his siblings weren’t extended an invitation solely because of who his family are, I would have placed his name on the guest list myself. This is your night, kiddo. You deserve to share a dance with whomever you want.”

Ashlyn's face flushes pink immediately, the colour obvious even beneath the light tan her pale skin has acquired since returning from Scotland, and Larisa feels a flicker of regret when she notes the stricken expression on her face. Nieve would chide her for pushing Ashlyn too far - the two girls are practically inseparable most days so they know when the other needs space and precisely how much they can prod at each other before they have to take a step back or be burnt by the heat of the other girl's temper - but she thinks this is a point that needs to be made, no matter how little Ashlyn enjoys it. Certainly it isn’t a conversation that Nieve could have with their newly acquired sister - Larisa isn’t blind to the fact that it isn’t only the blonde Slytherin who sneaks glances at a certain dark-haired Graas brother when she thinks she isn’t being watched. They’re both truly ridiculous, she thinks fondly, and counts herself lucky beyond measure that they at least aren’t looking at the same boy. That’s one mess that she doesn’t want either of them to ever have to navigate, and Merlin knows that poor Nieve has enough competitors who also fancy themselves half in love with Gabriel Graas.

“It is alright, you know,” Larisa tells Ashlyn softly as she crouches to be at eye level with the girl sitting at her mother's vanity, careful not to snag the hem of her dress on her thin heels. Ashlyn somehow manages to flush even redder and refuses to meet her eyes, clearly not comfortable with the topic of conversation. Just a little further, Larisa judges cautiously. She doesn’t want to upset Ashlyn moments before her party but she thinks this is very much something that Ashlyn needs to hear before they make their way to the ballroom if she's to enjoy the dancing at all. “It isn’t wrong to like someone in that way, whether it's boys or girls or both. I don’t know what your parents may have told you but you aren’t just here to marry someone on command and produce children for them. It’s perfectly natural to have a crush on someone you find attractive. It’s alright to want things,” she says firmly and her lips curve into a smile when Ashlyn nods slowly, cheeks still hot with embarrassment. Larisa brushes a soft kiss against her forehead before rising to her feet, extending both hands to help Ashlyn stand in turn. “You look beautiful, sweet girl. He would be a lucky boy indeed if you were to grace him with a dance tonight.”

[Rister Graas S6]

Damon tilts his head thoughtfully at the invitation. He got a fair amount of invitations for all that he wasn’t as large of a social butterfly as the rest of his brothers, but this one did give him some pause. He didn’t really know Ashlyn Swallow all that well. Nor the Ramirez’s for that matter. At least not beyond what most pureblood families know of each other. There was some sort of an agreement or muddy family background there he supposed for the Ramirez’s to be throwing the party for Ashlyn, but that was beside the point really.

The older Ramirez sister was a Ravenclaw, the older a year younger than Damon and often worked with Gabriel he thought absently. Ashlyn Swallow was in his year and a Slytherin so he had seen her in the common room every now and then – the Graas siblings had absolutely no issues with lounging in each other’s common rooms and by this point the rest of the Ravenclaw sand Slytherins simply ignored it as well. They had worked together on a group project or two over the years, but it wasn’t until the start of the last academic year that Damon had taken proper notice of the girl. It had been by chance really. He had walked in on the ambush or the after effects of it really while taking a shortcut back from the library and he had paused to watch. He wasn’t entirely sure what exactly had brought on the ambush in the first place but it was clever enough to blind the Slytherin girl being ambushed off the bat so she couldn’t see the attackers. And the spellwork was magnificently executed he appreciated absently, as he tilted his head to consider it. Ashlyn’s and Nieve’s faces when they turned around to escape after successfully completing their ambush only to find themselves face-to-face with a faintly smirking Prefect were something to appreciate as well of course. He had considered the girls for a long moment, before glancing beyond them to the enraged howls of the older Slytherin. Except… the ambush wouldn’t leave any lasting harm really. It had been perfectly executed and during his rounds as a Prefect Damon had had to intercede more than once between the ambushed girl and younger years. She had almost turned on Leandra once, who hadn’t thought twice about jumping in when she thought she saw something wrong. It was a bit of all of that taken together that made Damon step to the side so that Ashlyn and Nieve could slip past him in the hallway. Hearing the sounds of approaching footsteps and guessing the outraged howls had brought a passing professor, Damon put on his Prefect face as he made a vague attempt to calm the ambushed girl down. And when questioned by Flitwick, he calmly demurred to say that he was just on his back way from the library himself and wasn’t sure of the exact specifics of what had happened or why. Which wasn’t even a lie as he did have no idea what had prompted this attack in the first place. Nothing further had ever come from that, for all that it brought a slightly wicked smile to Damon’s lips even now as he thought about it. So after showing the invitation to Rister – who took one look at the word quinceañera and balked (probably not without some reason as being the Heir he brought even more of a glint to the eyes of pureblood mothers than the rest of them) – Damon shrugged and RSVP’d for one.

***
He is tired on the day of the party itself, having spent nearly a week in Japan with Kris and with a persistent headache from the lack of decent coffee pressing on his temples. But they return just early enough that he won’t be horribly late for the party – fashionably so perhaps, but no worse than that. So Damon takes his leave from his father and continues the trek to Spain with one last portkey. Out of pure necessity he stops by a muggle coffee shop for a cup of coffee, but he’s pleased to see he makes it in time for the greeting line. He is towards the end, but not the last of the line – so takes a moment to half-charm, half-transfigure the coffee cup into invisibility as a handkerchief tucked in his pocket – as he steps forward to offer his best wishes and compliments while bending to brush an air kiss over Ashlyn’s cheek, before moving along with the line to leave her to accepting congratulations. He leaves his gift at the table meant for it and does a short round, offering greetings where he must. Before ducking into an alcove to restore his coffee cup. He takes the time to transfigure it into a glass wine glass, for all that the black coffee inside the glass is much too dark to be mistaken for any wine. It probably doesn’t speak wonders of his manners either, as he half-cups the glass in the palm of his hand to feel the warmth of it rather than politely holding the glass by its stem. His drink restored along with his ability to play nice – even if the tension headache and coffee withdrawal that have drawn faint lines around his eyes haven’t abated any – Damon returns to the party, even while cherishing his drink and allowing himself only small sips of it. It doesn’t look like coffee is going to be a feature of it anyway. Although not that many fifteen year olds are probably addicted to coffee. Certainly not to the extent Damon himself is. So he greets people, helps himself to a few bites of fingersfoods and holds polite conversations as is expected from any polite guest. Besides he’s both a foreigner here and not as familiar with the rules of a quinceañera as well as really being a minor background guest. Although he stays away from the dancefloor – dancing would require abandoning his coffee. For all that he’s down to the last two cold sips really when he finds himself near a small window alcove again and leans himself against the seat there while taking in the party, the Ramirez sisters and Ashlyn as the main star of the evening kept firmly to the centre of the whirl of activity. As such he’s mildly surprised when Ashlyn’s and his eyes meet for a moment across the dance-floor but he bows his head and lifts his glass in a wordless toast to their hostess regardless.

[Ashlyn Swallow G5]

“Auri is so jealous that he can’t attend,” Nieve tells Ashlyn as she sidles into place a few steps behind her right shoulder to start greeting guests, dark eyes bright with the glee of an older sister having teased her little brother into a fury over something ridiculous. “I reminded him that he can’t come to my quinceañera in a few months either so now we have to remember to smuggle him some cake up later or he’ll be sulky for days.”

“You’re a menace,” Ashlyn hisses back through a fixed smile in the seconds between one guest entering and another moving forward to wish her a happy birthday. She knows at least 60% of the people who have arrived so far, she’s relieved to note. Beyond the extended Ramírez family, which could fill a small house without any help, the guest list is heavily skewed towards Slytherins and Ravenclaws, which makes sense given the social circles she and her foster sisters move in, and Isadora had been generous enough to invite only a few handfuls of good marriage prospects. “Isa is going to be so cross if Aurelio tells on you. You’re going to be in so much trouble.”

Nieve almost shrugs before catching her mother’s eye and straightening reflexively. She and Ashlyn are given a lot of leeway already but uncouth gestures like slouching or shrugging aren’t party manners and she’ll be whisked away upstairs to sit with Aurelio and the other little kids if she doesn’t prove she’s ready to be here, especially since she isn’t yet old enough for her own debut. “Not as much trouble as you’re about to be in,” she sings quietly, edging a few inches closer now that most of the guests are already inside. “Your future husband has just arrived. Smile all pretty for him.”

Ashlyn sadly doesn’t have time to get her revenge before Damon steps in front of her but her gaze silently promises vengeance and retribution. Honestly, it’s so stupid. Being a teenager is stupid. All Damon Graas ever did for her was pull his weight in a few paired assignments and not turn her and Nieve in for cursing one of Clara Sinclair’s flunkies after the older girl made one of Nieve’s cousins cry for being Sorted into Hufflepuff. He’s nothing special, she reminds herself stubbornly. He’s just a stupid boy with a nice smile and soft looking hair. She’d never even really noticed him before Nieve pointed him out as one of Gabriel’s brothers. “Damon, thank you for coming,” she greets pleasantly. “It’s so lovely to see you.”

The two girls separate once all of the guests have been greeted; Nieve is nabbed by one of her cousins who needs help to fix her hair while Ashlyn gravitates naturally back towards Isadora and Larisa, seeking out their familiarity before the dancing starts. “You look so beautiful, sweetheart,” Isadora compliments with warm sincerity, drawing her close to brush a soft kiss against her forehead. “And you did so well with the guests. Very prettily done, especially for your first time.”

“I didn’t do half so well,” Larisa confides with a grin and a quick wink. “I was a disaster at first; it was so overwhelming to be the hostess and know that everyone was here for me.”

“That’s very true,” Tomás confirms in a low rumble as he joins them. “If I wasn’t such a good dancer, she’d have brought me down in a tangle of limbs halfway through the first dance. Speaking of,” he extends his hand for Ashlyn’s, dark eyes warm as they meet hers, “may I have the honour of your first dance before I have to relinquish yet another of my girls to their admirers?”

The first few dances pass by in a blur but Ashlyn pleads fatigue and a need for refreshment after an hour, gratefully allowing Larisa to swoop in and rescue her when the older girl catches her eyes. “Here,” Larisa says sympathetically, passing her one of the glasses of wine she lifts from a server’s tray. “You need this, trust me. Small sips, it’s stronger than the wine we have with dinner. Yours is usually watered down so it won’t taste the same until you get used to it. So no,” she adds when Nieve excuses herself from a group of their acquaintances to join them, “you can’t have any. Mum would actually murder me if she caught you drinking.”

“I know, I know,” Nieve responds easily and offers up her plate of canapés when two sets of eyes land on it hungrily. “I brought this over for Ashlyn but I hope you don’t mind sharing,” she drawls. “Both of you have been dancing nonstop so I figured you’d be famished by now. And speaking of famished,” Nieve adds wickedly, “your future boyfriend over there is looking at you. Maybe he’s realised you look good enough to eat.”

Larisa tries not to laugh but Ashlyn’s scandalised expression and flushed cheeks are just adorable. “He hasn’t asked you to dance yet?” she demands, tutting disapprovingly when both Nieve and Ashlyn respond almost at the same time. “No, that won’t do. You have to dance with every single boy here, it’s tradition. So unless he’s engaged or he has a girlfriend, he has no excuse. Give me five minutes please, chicas. I may not be Head Girl anymore now that I’ve graduated but I can still whip one of my Ravenclaws into shape. He’ll be over shortly, I promise.”

“Oh Merlin,” Ashlyn almost whimpers as she watches Larisa stride away, somehow both terrifying and beautiful in equal measure. “What is she going to do? Worse, what is she going to say?”

“It won’t be anything bad,” Nieve offers, lacing her fingers with Ashlyn’s comfortingly. “Honest, she won’t say anything to him. It really is tradition to dance with every single man at the party, I promise. She’ll be doing the same thing to me in a few months so you’ll get to watch her force Gabriel to dance with me. It’s just one dance, you’ll be fine. Just smile and don’t say anything too mean. Boys don’t like mean.”

[Rister Graas S6]

Damon’s attention had wandered but he’s aware enough to focus on Larisa’s very determined approach. “Signorita Ramirez,” he greets idly, offering a bow of his head as she steps up to the alcove he has been resting in. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.” He is too well raised to not be polite reflexively as they trade a few polite remarks, even if he shifts his glass with the last dregs of his coffee to the other hand further away from Larisa when she frowns quizzically at it.

Not that Larisa takes long to get to the point about the dance. Damon considers her for a long moment over the rim of his glance as he allows himself a slow sip of his by-now cold coffee. It’s not that he opposes the idea of dancing with Ashlyn – he’s also been to enough parties to know that it’s expected of him to at least extend the invitation should Ashlyn wish to accept it. But he doesn’t like being pushed and he’s feeling rather contrary. “There has hardly been a chance to hope for a dance so far as there’s hardly been a lack of dance partners,” is all Damon says in response though, his lips quirking into a sardonic smirk as he glanced over just in time to see another expectant dance partner approach Ashlyn. “Case in point,” he adds, nodding to the pair to draw Larisa’s attention to it. And as Larisa’s eyes land on his glass again when she shifts her attention back, Damon swirls the last dark sip of coffee around the glass just to see Larisa’s eyes follow the drink. “I also thought injured guests were exempted, but that is hardly a reason to pass on an opportunity of a dance with a beautiful partner,” he muses, finishing the last sip of his coffee and then handing the glass to Larisa with just a hint of a smirk. Not the expected thing to do perhaps, but she had seemed so interested after all. Even though it wouldn’t take her long to realise Damon wasn’t drinking from the family’s glass – if she hasn’t already – nor long to identify the drink that had been in the glass. Straightening to his feet, Damon offered a slight mocking bow before heading off across the hall, ever so slightly favouring his right leg if someone knew to pay attention to it.

He has only made it across half the room though, pausing to answer a question and exchange a few polite phrases with an old business partner of the Graas’s before Larisa’s plans to fill Ashlyn’s dance card are interrupted by her own cousins. The two girls – and another three lingering rather inconspicuously in hearing range – aren’t exactly subtle as the query about Damon’s brothers. One brother specifically. Nor does Damon have any issues cheerfully selling out Gabriel to them. It will amuse him and annoy Gabriel, so it’s a win-win really. “Gabriel is doing a shoot in the Philippines. For suits I think this one was? Although I might be mistaken, as I’m pretty sure I heard a photographer query whether his wings are waterproof while they were finalising the details of the shoot, so he might just end up in a waterfall or two. Which could hardly be good for the fabric of a suit, so I wouldn’t be able to exactly say what he might or might not be wearing,” Damon muses blandly, allowing himself a smirk as all five girls leave the pretence of not caring and gape for a moment even while their eyes seem to be turning to whatever is taking shape in their mind’s eye. With a small smirk Damon steps around the girls, who don’t really even notice him leaving as they congregate into a quietly squealing group, while he carries on. Reaching Ashlyn and his dance partner just as she’s taking his leave of him after their dance, Damon exchanges a polite nod with the guy over Ashlyn’s shoulder and when she turns to face him offers a small and this time actually sincere bow. “I was hoping the Belle of the Ball would grace me with the honour of a dance,” he requested while extending his hand.

[Ashlyn Swallow G5]

“Ah, thank you?” Nieve frowns at her sister quizzically as she automatically accepts the glass Larisa shoves at her. “I’ve always wanted an empty glass but I thought I’d have to wait for my inheritance,” she drawls bemusedly then turns her frown to the glass in question. “Where did you even get this? All of the glasses in circulation tonight are crystal, this feels like an unholy cross between cardboard and glass.”

“It’s a party favour from the world’s rudest guest,” Larisa answers, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “He apparently decided to provide his own glassware and beverage before skulking in the corner. He also had the audacity to treat me like one of the servers and I’m not convinced he actually has the sense to notice Ashlyn so please remind me why we like this boy for her because I’m drawing a blank.”

Nieve cocks an eyebrow sharply, appropriately annoyed. She dislikes bad manners at the best of times and all the more so when it’s directed at her sister in their own home by the boy her best friend is interested in. “Is that so? I do think you may be right, given that Mariana and her posse have descended upon him and this is the closest he’s come to smiling since he arrived.” She directs Larisa’s attention towards the group with a flick of her eyes before leaning against her older sister, sighing. “Oh, poor Ashlyn. He’s her first crush. We can’t let him ruin her night. She can realise that he’s a jerk any other night, just not this one.”

She’s been practicing how to move in heels - how to walk, run, and dance because their mother is nothing if not thorough - since she learnt how to walk so Nieve cuts through the crowd and arrives at Ashlyn’s side mere seconds after Damon does. “Apologies for interrupting. Ashlyn, my mother needs you,” she lies sweetly, and knows the moment the blonde picks up on the lie because Ashlyn’s eyebrow ticks up slightly. “It shouldn’t take long,” Nieve promises - and that much at least is true, given that her mother hasn’t summoned any of them. “Your partner can come back to ask for another dance once you’re free. I’m sure he doesn’t mind. Do you?”

“Please excuse me then, Damon.” Ashlyn dips a polite curtsey, flashing a puzzled expression at Nieve as she rises. The two of them have been laughing and planning this exact moment for weeks, with Nieve dreamily narrating exactly how she envisioned the party would unfold. Nieve’s stories always ended in Damon asking her out, and they never once featured Nieve pushing them apart before they could even dance. “I shouldn’t be long and I’d be delighted to dance with you when I return.”

Nieve waits for Ashlyn to be out of earshot before turning on Damon, her eyes hard and flinty. She’s never been so grateful for her early growth spurt; it feels far more like they’re on even footing than it would do if she had to glare up at him. “I don’t know you and frankly nothing about your behaviour tonight makes me regret that,” she informs him coolly, “but you should know that Ashlyn is like a sister to me and a daughter to my parents. So if you have any interest in any of my cousins, you have no business dancing with Ashlyn. So when she returns, you have two choices: 1, you make your excuses and leave for the night or 2, you reissue your invitation to dance and you act like the gentleman I presume you were raised to be. Gabriel and Jared have impeccable manners so I see no valid reason why you wouldn’t be able to demonstrate them also.”

[Rister Graas S6]

Damon raised an eyebrow at Nieve as she descended on them next. Would he have to sell out the next brother at this rate? Jared would hopefully do for the young Slytherin he considers even while inclining his head. "Of course not," he agrees easily - what else could he say anyway - as Nieve confirms that he won't mind. "I'll be waiting here for your return."

Both of his eyebrows arch at Nieve's short tirade. He didn't think he had managed to offend anyone during his stay here. Nor was he entirely sure why Nieve is so upset. "My apologies, if I've offended you, Ms Ramirez, enough for my invitation to the event to be rescinded. Nor was I aware that answering your cousins questions would offend you so and apparently make me illegible to dance with Ashlyn." Especially as Larisa had basically just ordered him to do just that. Damon considered Nieve coolly. He had promised to wait here for Ashlyn to return for the dance, otherwise he would probably walk out. AS it was, her merely tilted his head. "Well, then. If you find my manners so far appalling, I dare not make you any promises. So should I consider myself escorted out or should I wait here for Ashlyn to return for the dance?"

[Ashlyn Swallow G5]

“You should wait for me to return,” Ashlyn answers firmly, cutting in before Nieve can respond. “And you should probably wait a minute to make sure your schemes actually work before spouting off. He’s my guest, you don’t have the authority to tell him to leave,” she tells Nieve pointedly, satisfied when the younger girl looks at least slightly abashed. She still has her chin lifted high so she stands by whatever had suddenly turned her against Damon, Ashlyn notes and resolves to talk to her later. The family all already know that the teenagers and Aurelio will end up in the same room tonight anyway; Auri is always so curious about the parties he isn’t yet old enough to attend but he drops off to sleep so quickly after a few stories that the girls can stay up and talk quietly while he sleeps without worrying about him overhearing something he shouldn’t. Whatever it is, she’ll need to know and maybe it’ll end up changing her mind about finding Damon attractive but at least she’ll have had this first. Larisa had promised her that it’s not a bad thing to like someone so it can’t be a bad thing to want her first dance with her first crush to be untarnished for at least a little bit longer.

“If you would still like to dance with me, that is,” Ashlyn amends as she turns back to Damon. “You certainly don’t have to. Traditions are made to be broken, after all.”

[Rister Graas S6]

"I would be honoured," Damon said with a bow as he held out a hand to Ashlyn, before leading her out to the dancefloor. "I am sorry by the way," he murmurs as the take the position and pause for a moment to wait for the music, "Well, not sure what I did to offend Nieve. I might have teased Larisa by handing her my coffee-glass, but she seemed very interested in it. I certainly didn't mean to cause any troubles for you over it however, so I am sorry if I did." They move easily into the music as the dance begins. Damon isn't necessarily the best dancer out of his siblings, but he's had the lessons and is confident on his feet. A slightly sharper turn has him inhaling sharply as it sends a flare of pain through his hip, but Ashlyn is too good a dancer herself for the slight shift of weight on Damon's part to be really noticable. So Damon merely smiles at Ashlyn. "I did, however, mean it when I called you the belle of the ball. You look beautiful. And you're probably amongst the best dance-partners I've ever had," he complimented gently, absently catching a lock of Ashlyn's hair between the fingers of his hand for a moment. Ashlyn smells faintly of apples he realises as another turn of the dance bring her closer for a moment. "You're a musician, aren't you? Well, rather certainly a better dancer than I am then at least."

[Ashlyn Swallow G5]

Ashlyn hums thoughtfully, falling easily into the steps of the dance as she considers the safest possible answer. She’s obviously not going to tell Damon that she has a bit of a crush on him and she’d sooner die than outing Nieve’s crush on Gabriel so that limits what she can say. “I couldn’t possibly confirm for sure,” she answers carefully, “but I would hazard a guess that Nieve is accustomed to your brother; they work together on assignments a lot so she would naturally judge you as an extension of him. I don’t know Gabriel personally but from what I’ve seen of him in the common room and what I’ve heard of him, he would probably have been flirting with Nieve’s cousins. To move from that scenario to immediately asking me to dance was probably enough to make her feel a bit overprotective. I don’t know them very well but I rather get the impression that no one escapes Mariana and Luisa with their virtue wholly intact.”

“The wonders of excellent designers and good tailoring,” Ashlyn murmurs immediately, and hopes that the combination of her tan and a few layers of makeup are enough to dull the blush she can feel burning her cheeks and down her neck. “And hours of dance lessons,” she adds wryly. “That’s enough to make anyone look good, I’m sure. And a good dance partner always helps, for which I and my feet thank you. I danced with someone earlier who managed to step on my toes every time he moved his feet.”

[Rister Graas S6]

Damon raises a sardonic eye-brow. "Gabriel doesn't actually flirt half as much as girls seem to think he does," he murmurs. Half of Gabriel 'flirting' is really semi-desperate or overly-optimistic girls reading more out of his words and a reflexive smile than that is actually there. And a half-fake reputation took care of the rest of the stories, which only grew in telling. "Should I consider myself lucky then for having escape? Granted, they did seem more interested in the whereabout of Gabriel so I ended up telling them he's having a semi-naked photoshoot in a waterfall in Philippines. Which, to be fair, might be happening but," Damon shrugged. It might, but it was unlucky. For all that Gabriel had a pretty ageless look, he had only just turned fifteen so his shoots tended to not be quite that overtly sexual just yet. "Maybe I should do get him something nice for serving as a convenient bait," Damon muses.

Another turn and another flare of pain that whitens out Damon's vision for a moment as his holds tightens for a moment, drawing Ashlyn half a beat closer. He was mostly fine before but dancing is quite obviously a step too far for his hurt leg and hip, even with his family ring settled on his finger for once. "I am going to have to beg for your forgiveness however. And possibly a favour," Damon says, his eyes actually slightly squinted in pain as he slowly draws them to a stop to the side of the dancefloor. Dropping one of his hands from the dancehold, Damon presses it to his thigh with a sharp intake of a breath as he presses down on his leg in a faint attempt to ease the cramp. "I'm afraid I managed to hurt my leg while on a trip and it hasn't quite recovered enough for a full dance," he explained, because he had to. In reality he really needed to sit down for a moment - or well lean on something really, as he didn't think his leg would like the effort of standing up again if he sat down properly. But even being able to stay still for a moment was helping as he blinked the stars out of his eyes. "I know it might be breaking tradition, but would I be able to claim the rest of the dance at another occasion?"

[Ashlyn Swallow G5]

That might well be true, Ashlyn has to admit. Nieve is generally sensible but her friend’s brain and common sense do have a rather unfortunate tendency to disappear where Gabriel Graas is concerned. It’s not like Ashlyn can judge; her brain is currently otherwise occupied memorising the feel of Damon’s hand against her skin and the colour of his eyes as they dance. For the first time she can fully understand Larisa’s sigh of relief when she realised who Ashlyn was nursing a crush on. She honestly, fully believes that she would choose her best friend over any boy but she also believes that both of them feeling this way about the same boy would be a disaster. Neither of them share well and she doesn’t imagine that would be improved by accommodating a shared crush on the same boy. “You’re lucky you made it out with your virtue and your dignity intact,” Ashlyn agrees with a faint smirk. The girls aren’t that bad, really. They’re a bit silly and incredibly boy-crazy but Mariana is always happy to help if Ashlyn needs help with Potions and Luisa has a wicked sense of humour and a sharp tongue that can have people either laughing or crying in minutes. They just have an unfortunate fixation on Gabriel Graas. “He’ll experience it himself in December,” she points out cheerfully. “He is coming to Nieve’s birthday party, right? I think he and Jared were both on the list.”

“How badly are you hurt?” Ashlyn asks worriedly, fretting as she tries to figure out the best course of action. Casita is the house-elf assigned to the children but she’s in the south wing looking after Aurelio and the younger cousins so she won’t respond to any calls unless someone relieves her of her charges or one of them is injured. The antechamber with the fireplace will be locked until midnight, when the wards in that room will also be temporarily relaxed to allow for portkey travel, and neither Ashlyn nor Nieve are keyed into those wards yet. “I can get Isadora or Tomás to come over,” she offers, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she prepares to break the most important rule that had been laid down for her, “or there’s a doorway hidden in that alcove to the left. The servers have been using it to bring food and drink up from the kitchens but it also leads to the duelling hall. We keep a well-stocked medical kit there so there’s almost definitely a potion or salve that will help.”

[Rister Graas S6]

"Possibly," Damon said with a shrug, "Probably? I have to admit that I don't keep so close an eye on Gabriel's social calendar to have a clue whether he's RSVP'd or not. Nor Jared's. If they were invited and said they'd come, they'll likely be here."

"It's not so bad, so please don't worry," Damon soothes, blissfully unaware of just hard he'd be smacked one day when Ashlyn actually saw the scar that would be left on his thigh. "Dad and I were in Japan to finish an agreement about a business deal with some muggle businessmen and got into a small accident there," Damon explains, because at this point he has to give Ashlyn some context. And a car crash hurt far more than Damon ever expected. Not that it helped that it took a while to extract them from the muggle doctors - not helped by the fact the muggle business couldn't be transferred over to the magical hospital with them. All in all it had been pretty chaotic and certainly a painful experience. "I am sorry for interrupting the dance however. I do hope you'll give a me a chance to make it up to you sometime."

Damon glanced at the door Ashlyn points outs and then takes in her worried expression. It's easy enough to guess what about taking him to a private room during a party would concern her. "If I took to you to a private room in the middle of your party -" Ashlyn's what? Friends? Family? There was a murky enough background here Damon didn't know so he reverted to using names without even a pause "- Nieve and Larisa would kill me with their shoes. And I'm in no shape to duck for cover today," he said with a low chuckle. "There's no need to call someone over. I can walk fine, but a dance was stretching it a bit too far right now I'm afraid. If I can take my weight off my leg for a moment, I'll be just fine. Perhaps the alcove I was in earlier - I can lean on the window seat there without having to fully sit down." Plus it was clearly visible and public so Ashlyn wouldn't need to worry about her reputation. "I am sorry for bothering you though. You are free to get beck to the party rather than worry about me - I promise not to take any offence."

[Ashlyn Swallow G5]

“You just nearly keeled over on the dancefloor,” Ashlyn remarks sardonically, abandoning her party manners to arch an openly sarcastic eyebrow at Damon in a way that Isadora would scold her for. “So you’ll forgive me if I question your definition of ‘not so bad’.” She doesn’t push him for further details though; they hardly know each other and he certainly doesn’t owe her his life story. It isn’t as if she’s sharing hers,” Ashlyn acknowledges with quiet, grim humour. She’s noticed him politely edge around the fact that she’s clearly neither a Ramírez nor Spanish, despite the fact that she’s in their home and clearly being claimed as part of their family. “There’ll be other parties,” she assures him wryly. “We can try again another time. Preferably when you’re not injured.”

“Sorry,” Ashlyn murmurs with an apologetic grimace, because Damon isn’t entirely wrong. They’re only fifteen but that’s simultaneously too old and too young for disappearing from a party together to be socially acceptable, whether they have a valid reason or not. “They wouldn’t use their shoes though,” she corrects even as she scrutinises Damon through narrowed eyes to determine the best and least obvious way to get him back over to the window seat. “Far too messy. The blood would never come out properly - you’re a bit tall for this to be ideal but do you think you could manage if you lean on my arm? I can make it look like you’re escorting me to a seat so no one should pay much attention. Larisa may however transfigure something to beat you with and Nieve would absolutely use you as a practice dummy for the curses we’re not allowed to use at Hogwarts. She’s more vicious than she looks.”