Her Little Finger {Closed}

[Cyrus Thorn]

Ah. Christmas. What a simply wonderful time. Cyrus would go home for the holidays and spend the nights drinking expensive wine with his father, discussing everything and anything, while the days were spent relaxing, eating fabulous food, and attempting conversation with whatever woman Joseph had decided to allow upon his arm that week. Cyrus hated unoriginal, boring small talk and always tried to excuse himself from those situations. On the rare occasions when Joseph would decide to go away for Christmas and the two would jet off to another country, Cyrus would be fortunate enough to not have to converse with the women, as even his father could not stand having the same girl on his arm for that long. Unfortunately this Christmas was not one of those times. Cyrus arrived later than normal at the vast manor and froze within one moment of stepping through the door. For the first time in seven years, his house elf was not waiting to greet him. “Varnir!” His voice echoed through the main halls, the tone displeased. Barely a second after the sound slipped from his lips did a loud crack sound just beside him and the skinny house elf appeared. The leathery skin beneath Varnir’s large ears was bruised badly. With a sigh, Cyrus turned his glare on the ugly creature, the disgust clear in his eyes. “Do I have to stand here until the sun comes up until you appear, house elf?! Is that how you welcome your master home?” His voice came out as a hiss, low and biting. Stupid, stupid house elves. Cyrus had never liked them. These days the Slytherin was finding it harder and harder to rely on anyone but himself, and this latest show of disrespect enhanced these feelings further. “Sorry, master.” Ah. That was better. Cyrus’ eyes relaxed slightly, but his brow was still raised as he stared at Varnir. He had long ago ordered his house elf to never stutter, and to always get to the point. For this reason the servant rarely spoke more than a few words at one time, and those few were always necessary.

“Deal with my things as normal. Has my father retired for the night? Check, now. Also, get me some firewhisky and one of the owls.” He whisked his eyes from the creature, already bored of looking at such a deformed array of features. As he spoke he shrugged his long, black coat from his shoulders and removed his scarf swiftly. Today he wore a deep maroon wool scarf, one of his warmest to protect him against the winds outside. Cyrus loved to wear scarves and had a collection that made wearing one twice disgraceful. Continuing through the halls he switched his travel shoes for a more comfortable house pair and proceeded towards his own rooms. Arriving there he breathed in the air and smiled. It was not an overally happy expression and could have unnerved some people. He was pleased to be home for an odd reason; normally he couldn’t wait to get out. He walked a few more steps towards the oak coffee table in the centre of the room. As he reached it his requested items appeared, and a gentle hoot from behind Cyrus alerted him to the fact that the owl was also present. “And my father?” He bellowed, his voice on the edge of cruel again. He didn’t need to see his house elf to address him, expecting the thing to be behind him- or at least listening- always. Instead of Varnir’s voice reaching his ears in reply, Cyrus instead heard the deep tone of his father.

“Son.” One word. It caused the Slytherin boy to smile again and turn to greet his father in a respectable embrace. “Still shorter, I see.” A scowl graced Cyrus’ lips. Joseph was a very tall man and while Cyrus was not at all short, he knew that he would never be eye-level with his father. “Don’t scowl, Cy, it does not suit you.” One glance into Joseph’s eyes confirmed that his father was joking- of course the scowl suited Cyrus, just as well as it did Joseph. The two laughed lightly, the melodies of their voices blending together to create an almost eerie chuckle. “You got held up on your way over? No problems, I hope?”

“No, merely business I had to take care of before arriving. I am surprised you are still up. It would not have been a problem to welcome me home in the morning, you have done so before.” The two sat in the two large black armchairs nearby.

“I am aware, but I was awake anyway.” Joseph winked. He was youthful in his movements and actions, and yet Cyrus could not help but noticed the few extra wrinkles around his father’s eyes, along his mouth, and the new grey hairs that flecked the sides of his dark head of hair. It was not unattractive- it made him look even more handsome, if anything. But it was odd for Cyrus to think of his father as almost fifty. Cy didn’t miss the wink and smiled once more at it before asking who would be joining them for breakfast tomorrow. “Ah, a real beauty. You will like her. In fact, I think you met Christie in the Summer… don’t look so surprised, I’m quite capable of putting up with a woman for more than a few months.” One raised eye brow transferred the grin from Cyrus’ face to Joseph’s and the two laughed once more. “In any case, you will enjoy her company. And if you don’t get over it and pretend to for my sake.”

“If I must.” Cyrus did not have much to say about the matter. It was Joseph’s decision who he spent his time with. Both of them knew that if Cyrus did not like the woman then he would make it clear that he felt that way- he would never pretend. But he could tell from the tone in his father’s voice that perhaps he too was realising that he was aging, and that it wouldn’t be all that bad to settle down with someone. Not that he wouldn’t be able to once if looks were gone- women of all ages were forever pestering him. Having an endless fortune could do that for you.

“Her daughter, Annabelle, is here. Pretty little thing. Goes to Beauxbatons, year below you I think. They live near our Marseille house.” Joseph’s gaze wandered from keeping in contact with his son’s eyes as he pondered in his mind. Cyrus resisted the urge to sigh. His father always had an affinity for the French, and was forever telling his son how they could prosper there. But Cyrus had insisted they remained in England for a while longer and knew that it was the right decision for now. He had to finish school, and was not sure that France was his thing. It suited his father- the glamour, the women, the jewels and beauty that he could so easily take and own. Cyrus was not worried about fitting in as he spoke almost fluent French due to spending time there as a child in Marseilles. But he was still young and although ambitious and determined, England was what he knew. He knew the people and how to recognise their desires and use that to his advantage. He knew the witches and wizards, the connections and the business, the ministry level hierarchy and the back-alley deals. He was aware of more than his father knew and although Cy didn’t keep it a secret- he would happily have talked about the world’s ways and business with his father- the two had never discussed such matters.

“Sounds delightful. We’ll talk more in the morning, father. You should get back to… Christie, was it? And I have some letters to send off.”

“Always on the move. It’s good to have you back, Cy.” Joseph allowed his eyes to soften slightly- a rare sight- as his voice did the same. It was one of the rare moments in which formalities were dropped and Cyrus could see how other people lived. But he was not other people- he was better.

“Good to be back.” His voice contrasted with that of his father’s, business-like and already thinking about his letters. “See you in the morning, father. Good night.” The two nodded, the same light smile on their faces, and Joseph rose and left. Immediately Cyrus drank most of his firewhisky and seized a quill, parchment piece, and his ink. It was going to be a long night and, from one look out of the window, Cyrus doubted he would sleep at all- it was already nearing three. Sighing gently he began his first letter. Securing his future and making sure people didn’t forget his presence in their lives was becoming night work. He was not remotely tempted to complete the work in the morning. That time would be for meeting his father’s latest fancy and her daughter, for formalities and croissants, for small-talk and irritating questions. The usual. But something about this 'Christie' seemed different. The way Joseph's eyes wrinkled in the corners when he spoke of her. They always twinkled whenever Joseph had a new beauty to hold his arm and kiss his cheeks- although Joseph was not the nicest of men, he liked beautiful things and would shower girls with that quality with diamonds and gowns- at least, while they kept him amused or entertained. But this Christie... this Christie sounded different. Cyrus felt a change in his father and did not dislike it, though was certainly curious and more than a little wary of it. He would be returning to Hogwarts before long. If this Christie had Joseph wrapped around her little finger, he would have to do something about that before he left. While his father may have lost his head this time, Cyrus would never lose his.

[Cyrus Thorn]

He woke to the sound of a light bell. The breakfast charm, cast to gently awaken any sleeping bodies and inform them that breakfast would soon be served. The spell was only used when guests were in the house and it was strange to hear it, but Cyrus was comforted nevertheless. He blinked once, a memory coming to him of when he had meddled with the charm as a child to make it ring incessantly. It had taken over an hour to fix the spell, by which time Joseph had been driven crazy by the ringing and even Cyrus realised that his ‘fun’ was not so fun after all. Despite the disadvantages the interfering charm had caused, Joseph had complimented his son afterwards on the complex spellwork needed to modify the original charm. Thankfully the breakfast charm rang for just a few moments that morning. It was a light morning tune when you first listened to it, but on the last ring a slightly haunted note could be detected. Once your realised this sorrowful tune however, the charm had ceased and the ringing could no longer be heard- almost making you think that you had imagined the final note, although even after years of hearing it, it still left an imprint in Cyrus’ mind for a while afterwards. The fact that it had been cast meant that breakfast was clearly ready. The fact that Cy could hear it meant that he was probably late and his father, Christie and her daughter were most likely already seated. Rising, Cyrus dressed in simple and comfortable morning clothes that made it easy for him to move, yet did not hold the casual appearance of his sleeping garments. It did not then take him long to arrange his hair and depart from his chambers towards the breakfast room they used whenever guests were present. The door was ajar as he arrived, needing only a small push to allow him to slip through and greet the newcomers appropriately.

As he did so he drank in the French mother and daughter with his eyes and immediately recognised Christie. It was difficult not to. She was indeed stunning with very short black hair cropped close to her head and intense blue eyes. Her face was flawless, the features sharp and her jaw handsome, yet not any less feminine for it. She was slender, yet not ridiculously so, with well-shaped arms and a clearly healthy figure. As Cyrus greeted her by kissing her cheeks a smell wafted over him that he recognised just as quickly- a mixture of jasmine and orange, it seemed. She was impossible to forget and the moment Cy saw her, he instantly realised that he did not dislike her at all. Contrary to his initial thoughts the wrinkles at her eyes and her slightly aged hands told him that she was not as young as most of his father’s visitors. This pleased him but made him all the more wary for it- if she was world wise then it would be easier for her to capture Joseph and the Thorn fortunes with him. As the two exchanged morning and greeting formalities her voice slipped over him like silk and he involuntarily softened his own tone to match. Her charm was automatic and he knew instantly that she was classy and sophisticated. But from experience, he knew this was not enough to exempt her from his watchful eye.

Turning his attentions from mother to daughter, Cyrus greeted Annabelle with similar kisses and words. She was the opposite of her mother in appearance with very long silvery hair and dark eyes, although they were no less intense. His father had spoken the truth- she was very pretty and it was difficult for Cyrus not to act his usual self with attractive girls. Although Joseph knew his true nature in that sense, he certainly did not want Christie to become aware of his blunt frankness just yet- that fun would come later. As Cy stepped back from Annabelle he became aware that she was shorter than he had initially expected, yet seemed to look at him directly in the eye without gazing upwards. This he respected but didn’t care much for. She had a wilful look in her eye- a look that he knew would have been her mother’s when Christie was younger- and Cyrus knew in that instant that it was not Christie had had to keep a closer eye on, but her daughter.

“I was just informing Annabelle of your current school status, son.” Joseph had remained in his seat at the head of the table during the greetings, and now nodded a welcome to his son as the younger Thorn took his seat opposite. “It seems she knows just as much about Hogwarts as we do of Beauxbatons.” His father’s tone seemed odd and it took Cyrus a moment to figure out why. Joseph was actually interested in what he was speaking about. Normally he would initiate conversation or join one with female guests, but Cyrus knew him well enough to know that he rarely engaged his mind in the talk. For a moment Cy regretted going to Hogwarts after the summer holidays; for it was clear that should he have stayed, he would know what had caused this odd change in his father.

“I see. Well, I’ll have to tell you more about it later on, Annabelle.” He flashed a lazy smile at the girl, unable to keep a tone of gentle arrogance from his voice. Ignoring a look from his father he continued. “Certain aspects of Hogwarts are most intriguing, I am sure you will agree with me when you know a bit more of the school’s history. While I do have my opinions on some of the students Hogwarts accepts…” Father and son exchanged knowing glances. “- it is difficult not to appreciate many of the morals of some such as, say, those of my own house.” His chin lifted slightly and he looked directly into those dark eyes, still a little curious about the defiance he saw there, almost hidden, but just visible beneath the girl’s demure exterior.

“Oui, the little I do know of your school makes me see it is interesting, and quite diverse from my own Beauxbatons. Are you not a school where the…” She paused and glanced at her mother for a moment, before continuing. “- where there are both garçons et filles, living together?” She blinked once, twice, and instantly Cyrus looked through the façade that tried to tell him she was shocked that males and females could learn and live together like they did at Hogwarts. It was slightly endearing, this innocence she played with, but Cy was also irritated by it. What was she trying to hide- and why? What reason did she have for keeping a secret? He was unsure if his father had noticed the forced image of purity but was sure that he had the right notion with this ’ jolie fille’.

“Indeed, we learn, play, study and do everything but sleep together at Hogwarts.” His lazy smile grew slightly. “I mean, for sleeping we have dormitories.” And for sleeping together we have empty classrooms and hidden rooms… “It is most enjoyable. Would you not thin-”

“Son.” Cyrus detected the amusement in his father’s tone, but knew their guests would not. His father always knew what he was thinking or insinuating and Cyrus was not surprised he had been cut off. Joseph interrupted him casually and it was almost as if Cy had stopped speaking before Joseph had spoken, so there were no curious glances from Christie nor from Annabelle, who remained quiet. “Christie and I have been invited to a dinner party tonight and may return late, although certainly not at the hour you arrived last night… however we would appreciate it if you remained at home.”

“Ah- the Winslet’s, is it not?” Cyrus questioned casually, sipping from his coffee. “They throw quite enjoyable dinners, I am sure you will find it pleasant.” He smiled lightly to Christie. “And that is not a problem, father, I had not made plans anyway.” A lie- there was always somewhere that Cyrus could go at night and the first day of the Christmas holidays could often be one of the liveliest, to kick-start the holiday. He turned his smile to Annabelle and she returned it lightly before looking down once more, hiding beneath her long eyelashes and taking a very tiny bite of her breakfast. She was prettier with every second- but also more irritating, more infuriating to Cyrus. This merely amused him further and he was looking forward to tonight, perhaps she would be herself a little more with Joseph and Christie at the Winslet dinner party.

Breakfast continued with amiable conversation and comfortable silences, subtle compliments and the odd amused glance. Cyrus realised that he had not seen Annabelle and Christie look at each other once- both either looked directly at Cyrus or Joseph, or at their food. They spoke to each other various times, Annabelle referring to Christie as ‘mère’ in her silken French accent. Always aware of tone and voice, Cyrus noted that Christie responded in a slightly condescending tone, as if the two had argued recently and the words were still fresh in their minds. He was curious and tempted to pry later into this matter, as was his natural nature, but resisted asking further questions for the time being. Instead he slipped into ‘robot’ mode and allowed conversation to be played before him, offering input where it was needed, but otherwise allowing his mind to drift and focus on other things that he had to think about- such as trying to predict the response that would arrive to the letters he sent off only a few hours earlier. Always impatient, he began to wish that breakfast would conclude so that he could move into the new day with a swim. When it eventually did he quickly departed with the usual formalities and snapped his fingers as he moved, calling Varnir to him. “Get someone attending the Winslet party to keep an eye on them. Someone I can rely on, who won’t make his presence known. Not one of yours.” The last comment he spat. Cy had once made the mistake of instilling a house elf as a ‘watchful eye’ in his fifth year, somehow forgetting that the ugly things would disobey him and Varnir- as neither of them were the rightful master of the house elf- if a decision was to be made. “And make sure no-one gets into my chambers.” He ordered harshly. “Not even my father. Now get out of my sight, I have work to do.” He gave a cruel kick in the direction of the magical creature, pleased when Varnir winced. It would not do to let the creature think that just because there were guests in the house he would relax his control.

[Cyrus Thorn]

“You know they’re getting married.”

The gentle voice startled Cyrus. He merely flinched before turning in the waters to greet Annabelle, a welcoming smile set firm across his face. A sigh rushed through him. This morning swim was his time, not social time for the girl to come and have a heart-to-heart. As he moved the water rippled and sent a small wave towards the shore; Cyrus followed it with his eyes and was surprised to see that the French girl was walking upon just the soles of her feet. In fact, as Cyrus’ gaze travelled up towards her face, he was alerted to her attire - a swimsuit. Raising his brows in slight disbelief, he ignored what Annabelle had said and spoke in a slightly arrogant tone.

“This water isn’t warm.” Had he looked at her face Cyrus would have noticed a slightly smug expression; the expression of someone who had won.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Cyrus. Worry a little more about yourself.”

“You sound like a bl-” But his words were cut off by Annabelle’s quick movement. In one swift step she launched herself from the shore. Soon her body was forming an elegant arch over the surface, before slipping sleekly beneath, sending ripples towards Cyrus. He was surprised. Not because of the girl’s rude manner in cutting his words short, but by the dive. He had supposed Annabelle to be the sort of girl to dare not get her clothes dirty or even her suit wet; and yet the dive had been professional, practised. It did not impress Cyrus – oh, it took a lot more than a dive to impress Cyrus Thorn – but certainly surprised him.

“Sacré bleu!” Annabelle’s head broke the surface a few metres from Cyrus and he sighed once more as he turned to face her, wading gently. “This water is cold!”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

He eyed his father with a small slip of a smile, watching the older man’s own grey eyes dance across his newspaper blindly. Despite Joseph’s love for business and work, he had never been the type of man to sit with a paper and study it for a good half hour; these days all of the wizarding papers were far too full of nonsense. It was difficult to find public literature that was worth reading. But Joseph did occasionally spend a short while absently leafing through the papers, and tonight was such a night. Christie and her daughter were absent from the room but Cyrus had already been seated when Joseph had entered, and had already been glancing over that morning’s paper with mild interest. But now he had finished his pages, and sat to study his father’s greying features and narrowed eyes instead.

“Are you going to give comment or continue to watch your poor father without speaking, Cyrus?” Joseph’s eyes did not look up from the page he was scanning as he spoke, but his mouth imitated his son’s and twitched into a half-smile.

“I was merely wondering at the future, and was perhaps wishing to see a whisper of it in your face, father.” His tone flickered upon teasing while the words came, but after he has spoken he leant forwards keenly. “You love her?”

Joseph studied his son in turn, finally laying down the paper. Cyrus was a beautiful boy – or rather, man. He was proud to call him his son. But there was that edge in the lad’s green eyes that he knew only to well. And no – it wasn’t an edge that hinted of a clever adult or a wise mind, of a daring Slytherin or a determined business-man. It was an edge that Joseph saw as foolish; as dangerous. Once he had been as ignorant as his son and although he knew Cyrus would not understand his attitude were they to speak of it now, he knew he had changed for the better over the last year. He saw things in a different light. Although he wouldn’t admit it – were he to, he was sure grasping hands would have attempted to seize his fortune in moments – he was beginning to lose his old love of money, success and power. He no longer worried so much if he had enough of a fortune to sustain his retirement. Of course Joseph would still make sure, as a respectable father should, that Cyrus was to have enough gold in his account for his life; such a thing was still so important to his son after all, and no doubt would be until he reached a ripe old age, such as Joseph was now. To admit to his son that he no longer desired the highest luxuries would be a mistake. And to admit to his son that he loved his fiancé would too be a mistake.

“I do not, son.” His twinkling eyes were fixed on Cyrus. He knew his son could almost always tell when Joseph was lying – but only because his father had always allowed it. Not this time. “But you cannot deny she is a marvellous girl? Quite beautiful, and she holds a conversation brilliantly. I shall be more than happy with her by my side while I finish up.”

“She is especially captivating. Her daughter is not the worst step-sister, either.” Cyrus smiled. “There’s another, right? I caught mention of a son, barely four…” He waited for his father to confirm this with words, but was only rewarded with a nod. “And… and is he a step-brother or a half-brother to me?” The younger Thorn’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Joseph couldn’t help but wonder if young Joshua, Christie’s son, would be better off in the future if he chose now to say that the two sons were related. After a moments pause, he spoke softly.

“I believe the muggles have a way of knowing such things, but my wand cannot tell me.” This time, Cyrus knew his father was keeping something. Before he could enquire further his father rose to his feet and nodded at his son with a light smile, before leaving the room with an equally light step. Cyrus was left fingering the pages of his paper curiously, his mind back to pondering the future.