Sunday, 27 May 1923
8:23am
Mateo’s flat, London
The ceiling was wrong.
That was the first thing that Alice registered when her eyes opened. The ceiling of her dorm in Hogwarts was familiar, something she’d been looking at all term. This was… plaster. Slightly water-stained in one corner, morning light coming through a window that was in entirely the wrong place.
She laid still for a moment while everything fell into place. The flashes of the night before – arriving at Mateo’s flat, the kissing, the… well, the more that they did. She lifted the blanket and looked at herself. Her clothes were… somewhere.
It wasn’t Saturday anymore.
Oh no.
Alice sat up too fast, hugging the blanket to her chest, and immediately regretted it. Her head swam. She pressed her fingers to her temple and waited for the room to stop tilting, then looked around. Mateo was still asleep beside her.
She thought about Hogwarts. About the castle in the daylight. About sneaking back in while the sun was up and every professor and prefect and other nosy student was awake and moving.
Then she thought about her father finding out.
And about what her father did when he found things out.
Alice swallowed her panic, or tried to, and reached over and shook Mateo’s shoulder.
“Wake up,” she said, her voice low and urgent, her mouth dry. “I have a problem.”
Mateo woke with a sharp inhale.
His head lifted, and he blinked against the brightness of the room, needing a moment to find his bearings. The first thing his eyes focused on was Alice.
Sitting up beside him, Mateo had to look up at her.
“What?” he mumbled, turning onto his back and stretching, one hand dragging over his face. “What problem?”
“It’s daylight,” Alice said, like that explained everything. But she could tell Mateo was not fully awake yet. “I can’t walk back into Hogwarts in broad daylight. Everyone will see me.”
She pushed her messy hair away from her face, her head still aching from the whiskey she drank.
“I’m not there. If my father finds out –”
Alice stopped. The thought of what Thatcher Ravenstone would do if he found things out set in her chest like cold water. She frowned, her brown eyes widened a bit with worry.
“He can’t find out,” she said quietly. “He just can’t.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose before dropping his hand to the mattress with a sigh.
Daylight.
Fuck.
He’d forgotten about that.
Mateo propped himself up onto one elbow, the last remnants of sleep falling away as Alice’s panic finally registered. It was unmistakable in her voice, the way she sat there like a rigid statue.
His free hand settled gently over her lap.
“It’s okay, Alice,” he said, tugging lightly to make her lay back down and face him. “He won’t know. It’s Sunday. We’ll wait till dark, and you sneak back in tonight. No one will know.”
He sounded more convinced than he felt.
But he’d gone over this a hundred times last night before bringing her here. It was the safest bet there had been. Now he had to trust it worked.
And make her believe it too.
Alice watched Mateo for a moment before finally letting him pull her back down.
She lay facing him, her head still aching, and tried to let his certainty do something useful for her anxiety.
“You’re sure?” she asked. She hated how small her voice sounded. This was definitely a different side of her than he’d seen since they met.
Mateo didn’t look totally convinced, but he sounded it… would would have to be enough.
She closed her eyes briefly. Her father’s face sat somewhere behind them, waiting. He was going to find out. Thatcher Ravenstone always found everything out.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Okay.”
Alice didn’t move to get up. There was nowhere or nothing she could do until dark anyway.
“Don’t you have things to do?” she asked after a moment, wondering what she was supposed to do. Especially if he had to leave.
The anxiety in her voice made something in Mateo stir. His expression softened, a small smile tugging at his lips as he raised a hand to gently brush a strand of hair behind Alice’s ear.
“I’m sure.”
He certainly didn’t have another choice. He was the last person who wanted anyone finding out Alice wasn’t where she was supposed to be, but right now, there was nothing either of them could do about that.
Her eyes found his again, and Mateo grinned.
“I do.” The arm draped over her waist tightened, pulling her a little closer. He shifted onto his side, propping himself up as he looked down at her. “I need to make you breakfast, and then I’ll have to find some way to keep you entertained until dark.”
His grin widened.
“Think you can survive that?”
Alice smiled, finally, when he pulled her closer. She liked how he looked in the morning, she decided as he looked down at her.
The panic subsided a bit when he explained that he did have things to do, but that they involved her. Something about him not minding that she was now going to be with him all day calmed her.
“Breakfast,” she repeated, like the word was slightly foreign. “You cook?” She had never considered that.
“I think I can survive that,” she said. “Probably.” She smirked, teasing him before leaning up and pressing her lips to his.
Tuesday, 5 June 1923
9 pm
Hogsmeade
Her owl had come sooner than he’d expected. Summer break had begun only a few days ago, and Mateo had assumed she’d be busy for at least a week or two.
Pureblood functions and whatever else these elite people got up to—Alice’s presence was surely expected for all of it.
Besides, living under her father’s roof probably made sneaking away considerably harder than doing so from Hogwarts. From what little he knew, Thatcher Ravenstone was not a man to let things slip through his fingers.
And yet, here Mateo stood, leaning against a lamppost in Hogsmeade’s main square, smoking. Waiting for her to arrive. A small part of him wondered whether she would come at all. Whether she had been caught, and this entire plan was going to get infinitely more complicated now.
But then she appeared, and Mateo’s mouth curved into a grin.
“Hello, love.”
He straightened, flicked his cigarette away, and took a few lazy steps towards her, coming to a halt once she was within arm’s reach.
His eyes lingered on her face for a moment before his grin softened slightly.
“Tell me what terrible things happened that you couldn’t wait another four days to see me again.”
The plan had been simple:
She’d return home to Blackthorn Hall. She’d been informed beforehand that that night she would be meeting her future husband and his family. The business negotiations that went along with the engagement were close to being finalized, so it was time for her to meet the man and find her place in his life.
After that, she would be at her father’s mercy until Saturday when she was planning on meeting up with Mateo again.
Skipping a Saturday between their designated nights together was hard. The boy she was bound to marry was dull, and not even nice to look at. But he had the name and that, in her father’s world, was the most important thing.
Dinner was boring. She had nothing in common with her betrothed. She’d desperately wanted to escape to Mateo’s flat, but had no way to know if he would even be home. Surely he had other things to do on Saturday nights.
So she waited.
It wasn’t until after she saw Everleigh that she knew she had to get out. Her little sister was doing so much better, and yet she couldn’t help but feel like she was still not doing well enough. It was a strange balance, that.
So she sent Mateo an owl.
When she left Blackthorn Hall, she apparated to York and then took the Floo network to Hogsmeade. Her father was non-the-wiser. It’s not like he would look for her on a Tuesday night. He only cared when it mattered to him that her presence was at home.
Alice appeared in the square and spotted him immediately – the lamppost, the cigarette, the grin that she loved. Something in her chest loosened that had been tight since she left Hogwarts.
She approached him, stopping just within arm’s reach. He called her ‘love’, something that brought a smile to her face. Had he missed her too?
“I met my future husband and his family,” she explained, shaking her head slightly. “Four days was too long and I missed you. I was suffocating in that house.”
Ah. Her future husband.
Ravenstone certainly didn’t waste time.
What was it like to be promised off to the highest bidder a year before graduating, as though that were all the purpose she had in life? Livestock. Political leverage. How depressing must it be to be seen as nothing more than that?
Mateo watched her for a beat.
She had missed him.
He didn’t know what to do with the knot of emotions tangling in his chest, webbing the gaps between his ribs with dread, unease, and regret, making him question all over again what he had gotten himself into with her.
Was this going too far? Maybe he should never have kissed her.
Before his inner struggle could show, Mateo hummed softly, the corners of his mouth twitching wider. A glint of mischief sparked in his eyes as he held out his hand.
“I had a feeling,” he murmured.
When she took it, he drew her closer, his other hand settling around her waist. He leaned in until his mouth was close to her ear.
“Let’s go forget about all that shit, yeah?” He pulled back only far enough to meet her gaze, his smile easy. “I know something better to think about.”
Mateo watched her momentarily, and Alice wondered if realizing that she had her future planned out for her might make him not want anything to do with her anymore. She wouldn’t blame him. She was complicated, and not by choice.
But then she saw the mischievous spark in his eyes. She relaxed and took his hand. He pulled her in, not quite for a hug but his other hand rested on her hip. Flashes from the last time she saw him crossed her mind and she felt her face grow a bit warm.
“Let’s go forget about all that shit, yeah? I know something better to think about.”
Alice nodded, wrapping her arms around his waist in the hug she wanted. “Sounds perfect,” she responded, her voice soft as he apparated them away.
The dancehall he had taken her to was packed. Unusual for a Tuesday night, even in London.
Apparently, the band playing tonight was popular among the wizarding youth, drawing people from all over the country and stuffing the room to the absolute brim. They’d been lucky to receive entrance at all.
The bar seemed constantly occupied, while the dance floor was little more than a stampede of rushing feet and bumping shoulders, drenched in heat that crawled beneath Mateo’s skin. It had been hours since they’d arrived, and still they danced.
Mateo spun with Alice, chest to chest, his breath a ragged mess against her neck, but his face was bright with an easy grin. There was barely enough room to turn her properly, so he simply guided her along with the crowd of equally intoxicated patrons, moving to the quick beat of music encapsulating the entire space.
The whiskey in his system was heavy but loosening, a little blurry around the edges, more than he was used to.
He shouldn’t have had that last one.
And yet, it felt good right now.
A little too good, but the thought drowned beneath the haze in his mind.
The song ended, and Mateo brought them to a halt. His grin broad and easy, he lifted a hand to Alice’s face and drew her in, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. He broke away with a quiet hum.
“I think you might be a bad influence on me,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Got me acting all jolly. Never thought I’d see the day. What have you done to me, love?”
Alice was a fan of dancing. It helped distract her from what was going wrong in her life. At the moment, after hours of dancing and whiskey, she couldn’t remember the name of the boy she was supposed to marry.
All that mattered when she was with Mateo was the now.
And now he was kissing her. Alice stilled herself, returning his kiss until he broke away with a hum. She smirked, her eyes locked onto him.
“I have no idea,” she said in response, thinking it a bit funny that he thought of her as the bad influence. She wasn’t gone enough to not realize that it was the other way around, but she’d let him think that if he wanted.
She breathed, flushed and breathless, her dress and her hair clinging to her uncomfortably due to the sweat. As the heat became more obvious now that they weren’t dancing, Alice felt a reckless wave wash over her as she stepped back slightly, just enough so that she could pull her outer dress off over her head, leaving her in her slip.
She smiled, instantly feeling cooler with less on. She handed him the dress, as if it was his responsibility to hold onto it, and then pulled him closer to her by the collar.
“Stop complaining like you don’t like it,” she said against his mouth and then pressed her lips to his, his collar still in her hands so he couldn’t move back even if he wanted to.
Bad influence, bad influence. Her smirk said what she wouldn’t, and his grin widened into something distinctly mischievous and knowing, well aware of how absurd his words must have sounded to her.
But she was.
Perhaps without her knowledge, and definitely through his own fault. But Alice was having effects on him that Mateo had never planned for. It wasn’t just the drinking, or the dancing, or the fact he had to lay off other work to make time for her every week.
It was the playfulness that surged through his chest, twisting like a sharp knife—the feeling growing stronger each time they met in places like this, where whiskey was plentiful and the burden lighter. Where he occasionally forgot why he was here in the first place. Where he acted like a completely different person and carried on as though he deserved any of it. Selfish. Greedy. Manipulative.
Bad influence: the way she made him feel. The things she made him do. The way she made his head stop thinking.
Alice took a step back. Mateo’s hand slipped from her face, and then he watched as she pulled her dress off over her head.
For a second, his grin fell. He stared, mouth slightly agape, surprise rounding his eyes as she stood before him in nothing more than her slip. Breathless in the middle of the packed dance floor, utterly unconcerned. His gaze traced the outline of her figure before finding her face again, and then his grin slowly returned, the corners of his mouth curling as her dress landed in his hand.
It seemed this was the bad influence he had on her.
Her hand caught him by the collar and pulled him close, her mouth hovering over his as their eyes met, sparkling with amusement that ran deeper than before.
“Stop complaining like you don’t like it.”
Mateo grinned against her lips as she kissed him, his arms snaking around her waist and drawing her flush against him, a hum rumbling through his chest. Around them, people gasped, people whooped, people laughed. Something flashed. Mateo paid no heed. His attention was wholly captured by Alice.
At last, he broke away, only far enough to catch her eye, noses still brushing.
“What happens if I get you another drink?” he asked, voice low and carrying an unmistakable undertone.
Alice didn’t notice the flash. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have remembered it. She was too busy kissing Mateo. She could hear people talking about her, but that also didn’t register with her at the moment. She felt unpredictable for the first time in her life, and like most bad things – she couldn’t think of a single reason to stop.
“I suppose you’ll have to find out,” Alice responded, a glint in her eye, her voice a bit rough.
A few drinks later and she was on the bartop.
Alice wasn’t entirely sure how she’d gotten there. One moment Mateo’s hands had been at her waist and the next someone had offered a hand up and she’d taken it because the music was good and she was warm and she felt, for the first time in her life, completely invincible and free.
She danced. In her slip, her hair completely loose and messy, laughing with a joy that she never thought she’d feel.
Another flash happened somewhere, and she hardly even noticed when she finally got down and returned to Mateo’s arms.
“Let’s go home,” she said, her mouth close to his ear.
And find out they did.
Mateo watched, laughter bubbling in his throat, as Alice climbed onto the bar to dance above the crowd. Not a care in the world for who might see and who might judge. The grin on his face never quite faded, lingering at the corners of his mouth as he sat back and let her have her moment, cigarette burning between his fingers.
He didn’t stray far, keeping Alice in his line of sight. It was only when a bright flash caught the corner of his eye that his attention shifted. For a moment, he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d seen. Then it happened again.
A camera.
Barely visible through the smoke and the dim lights, half obscured by the crowd, but unmistakable now. And unmistakably pointed at the bar.
Something in Mateo’s chest squeezed. A good man would have done something about it. Climbed up there, pulled Alice down, tracked the photographer through the crowd and made sure the evidence never left the building. Made sure her secret stayed safe. But Mateo made no move.
Tomorrow, wizarding society would be buzzing with the news of Alice Ravenstone dancing on a bar in nothing but her slip. Her father would hardly be pleased, especially in regards to her marriage arrangement. Whoever that was, probably wouldn’t like this either.
Mateo hadn’t planned for this. Hadn’t engineered it, either. But opportunity had a funny way of presenting itself when you least expected it, and he knew better than to interfere. He watched the camera flash once more.
At last, Alice climbed from the bar and returned to his side. Mateo wrapped an arm around her waist without hesitation, smugly grinning against her cheek as she whispered into his ear.
“Say less,” he murmured, and before the camera could go off again, they were gone.
Thursday, 7 June 1923
Morning
Mateo’s flat, London
After this
Alice had been watching the clock for what felt like hours. She had been sitting in the front room with a book when she heard the door shut at the same time it did every morning when her father left for work. She finally understood the purpose of memorizing his schedule over the past seventeen years. After he left, she waited another twenty before making her way back upstairs to pack.
She didn’t take much with her. There wasn’t time and there wasn’t much of a point. A small bag that contained her wand, some money she had hidden, her journal, and a change of clothes. Buckley, her stuffed Hippogryff she’d had for as long as she could remember, was tucked under her arm when she left the house.
She apparated to York, then took the Floo to London. She walked the rest of the way to Whitechapel from memory to Mateo’s flat. She had considered going to her grandfather’s instead, but had decided against that pretty quickly. Before he sold Matilda off to the Zdravkova’s, she may have leaned on him. But now? She wasn’t going to let him get his hands on her future.
It wasn’t until she approached Mateo’s door that she allowed herself to feel much of anything about what she was doing. She stopped, mere feet away, and bit her lip. She couldn’t go back to Blackthorn Hall, she would not go back to Blackthorn Hall. She was not going to marry Stuart Pritchard. She was not going to become Alice Pritchard.
But doing this meant also saying goodbye to Everleigh, at least for the time being. Her father would turn Wizarding Britain upside down to find her to save his name. Her sister would be off limits. Her grandfather would be off limits. Tilly would be off limits.
Her stomach did a flip when she finally moved from her spot, approaching Mateo’s door. Would he be up already? She hadn’t checked the time since leaving the house. Had he seen the paper? Had he worried about her? Did he know to worry about her?
More importantly, did he know that his life was now in danger because of her?
Alice had no idea what to expect. She set her bag down, Buckley still tucked under her arm, and knocked.
The knock came mere seconds before Mateo was about to leave.
With his wand tucked inside his jacket, a pack of smokes shoved into his trouser pocket, he was just about to apparate straight into his office when the sound stopped him.
Who the hell—
He considered ignoring it. Whoever it was could wait. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and besides, he was a moment away from leaving, his schedule full. But for some reason, he decided against it.
Frowning and impatient, Mateo crossed the room and pulled the door open.
He stilled.
“Alice? What—”
His gaze dropped to the stuffed Hippogriff under her arm, then to the bag at her feet, before lifting back to her face.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
He knew what this was. The very same thing he had been working on for weeks, and yet he felt wholly unprepared. Now? Here? Without a word? Not how he had planned it. The subtle alarm that began to stir beneath his ribs didn’t show on his face, feigning ignorance and confusion.
“What are you doing here?
Alice looked at him, her face conflicted. Thinking about not seeing Everleigh had made her hesitate.
“I… I left,” she said. As if that explained everything.
She picked up her back. Buckley was still under her arm and she was aware of how that looked, and she really didn’t care at a time like this.
“He’s arranging my wedding already for this summer. The photos – from the other night – he’s getting rid of me,” she said, her voice steady but her eyes a bit wide with panic. “I’m… not going back.”
She furrowed her brow, looking at him.
“I didn’t know where else to go. My grandfather would probably – probably send me back, or do the same, I don’t know. And I couldn’t – I have to – Everleigh…”
Alice felt herself spiraling. She closed her eyes, pushing down the tears she felt could come at any moment. She breathed, steadying herself, before opening her eyes and trying again.
“I won’t be able to see her. Not for a while.”
That was the thing that had cracked her careful composure. Not the wedding. Not her father. Everleigh and the garden and now she was leaving and she didn’t know when she’d get to go back.
“I didn’t – Can I… Can I come in? Please?” she asked, her eyes on his, her voice cracking slightly at the end.
Mateo stared at her in silence, searching Alice’s face as his mind raced to make sense of the scattered pieces of information she was giving him.
Her father wanted her married off this summer. Not next year. Mateo couldn’t make sense of the sudden urgency, brow furrowing deeper at the mention of photos. Photos? What photos? He had no idea what she was talking about, but he filed the thought away for later.
He needed to figure out how to deal with this, what to do.
Alice Ravenstone had just turned up on his doorstep with a packed bag and every intention of disappearing from her life.
She looked positively panicked.
Mateo reached for her hand and gently tugged her across the threshold. “Come on,” he said quietly. He shut the door behind her before guiding her towards the sofa. Once she’d settled, he took the armchair, turned at an angle to face her, and leaned forward with his elbows braced against his knees.
“All right,” he said, calm and measured. “Start from the beginning. What happened?”
|
