Concepts of Time

Augustus smoked in the silence, but Elsie was not put on edge by it. Augustus certainly was a classier form of guest than she was used to. In America, she had chosen to spend her time with those considered low society. Yes, she had attracted some of the wealthy men to keep her life of luxury and her reputation intact, but her real interactions had come from men who had been on welfare, men who took sketchy jobs because there were no others to be had, men who shirked convention because of their own beliefs. She had sampled all sorts from low society and had found them to be very earnest, strong, but often exhausted.

With this in mind, the change of company was appreciated. A man of reputation might be somewhat more reserved, but that made him less volatile. In private company, he could be incredibly dangerous, and behind closed doors, he could be a devil. But surrounded by those who esteemed him, there was a certain level of safety - as long as one minded their own behavior.

Elsie had never been like this. Never considered the danger quality behind an interaction, never looked as a man as though he could cause her mischief. Nash had changed that for her. Nash had changed a lot for her.

Elsie smiled, her lips unfurling over itself in a mischievous grin. "My parents wanted many things for me. Our family financial advisors have called me, among other names, 'a tad rebellious.' I just... haven't met a man that would be acceptable for my family and interesting for myself. And worth the decrease in volume of company." She smiled a bit wider. That was what it really came down to. Committment. Elsie would escape for as long as she could.

She raised an eyebrow at his words. It almost sounded like a lecture. She quirked her lips, though, and said, "Connection may have been an inappropriate word. Perhaps distraction would be better suited."

Guilt. It hadn’t ever been a feature that Augustus had acknowledged in himself. Yet, he had all of the reasons in the world to feel guilt. He told himself he shouldn’t but that didn’t stop it from ebbing at him, or crashing against him with violent vengeance in mind, as though it was the sea and he helpless rocks jutting awkwardly from the surf. He felt it with every shuddering breath and nothing could shift it, only dull it, but one drink too far could make it even more potent than it was when he was sober; and sobriety was overrated after all. He missed his wife. His daughters. His son. His grandchildren. It was all gone. Some snatched away, the rest thrown away, too tired to wait for him to snap himself free of the oppressive feelings of such vigorous misery. It had cost him everything. One death, two if you counted his so very mortal, sought after second son, and it had all fallen to splintering pieces that had cut and split at him as they had rained down. Now, he had nothing but absinthe, cigarettes and a hotel somewhere, perhaps a prostitute or two if he was up to it. But nothing meaningful. Nothing worth something.

Distraction was right. It was what he’d been looking for, aside from the free booze. It was about business, too. It always was. These parties were not without several advantages for those looking for something a little bit advantageous. It was part of the reason why many betrothals were dealt over swilling glasses of expensive bourbon. Augustus had been involved in his fair share, always commended as the best barterer of the lot. He’d tried to find something for Katarina. Even as he scanned his eyes around the room, he wondered whether he could exercise that patriarchal right. Though, for him he had no right. One daughter was gone. She’d flown the nest or, perhaps, was still there and he simply wasn’t there enough himself to notice. The other two had disappeared for the better, to lead a life with the only woman who seemed to see the wrong in their family, who wanted the best for all of them but wouldn’t see, also, that they were so riddled with hurt there was no undoing the damage. Athena. Goddess of Strength, indeed. Something they all lacked.

“Financial advisor?” Augustus smirked as he drifted from his reverie. “They really must worry after it if they have one of them. If you want to do your father a favour, if you’re feeling benevolent or perhaps are in need of something, send him my way. I can soothe those worries. I assure you.”

Business, it seemed. Would always be done. Through everyone. Augustus put down his glass after another sip and he held his hand out to Elsie.

“How distracted do you want to be?” He asked with a smile.

Whoops. If her parents would have been there, they surely would have tripped over themselves in a mad attempt to quickly explain the purpose of said advisor. Benji would have managed to laugh at it, for he always thought it was better to be coy with their finances anyway, keep their rivals guessing, and he could charm his way through anything. Elsie, however, had little skill for political manuevering in regards to money issues. She had money - that was the extent of her knowledge on the subject. She had never been as possessive over the family secrets as the rest of them had been, but she knew how weird purebloods were about money.

She just liked money.

She smiled. "I don't know if it's for any real reasons beyond their fear that I may get too impulsive. Having an advisor is supposed to keep me in line." She grinned a bit wider again. "But if switching business over to you means I'll have an ally, I may have to talk them into it." Very little of what she said was said out of real interest in business. She could give a damn, as long as she was continuing on with her life of ease. But, right now, a very handsome man with power had his attention on her. And old habits died hard.

The smile and the question was enough. Elsie finished off her drink, trying to get rid of the reminder in her mind that this was exactly the sort of behavior that had forced her to flee America. Powerful men always meant trouble for her, and yet they seemed to need her near, and she seemed to crave their attention. It would be her undoing, it already had been, but look at the cards Fate had dealt in. Why had she come to THIS party? And why had, of all people, she found herself in the company of Augustus Rookwood?

The deck was stacked against her. Or for her. She could not decide.

She chewed her lip, her eyes sparkling with possibility, before she leaned in. "I'd like to be as distracted as I can be."

It would be safe to acknowledge that Augustus Rookwood had all of the faults of his class and he was not beneath alluding to them, though he would never openly admit to those recessive defects. Yet, he also had the ingrained propriety that his class also provided and that was whilst he could be an awful, cruel cad he also knew when it was time to treat someone with the same respect they afforded him. Elizabeth Norton would never be the likes of Pansy Parkinson or Daphne Greengrass and, as such, she demanded, at least unconsciously, a little more respect than the society-grabbing contemporaries that Augustus had tried to distance himself from – and successfully, too, if you take Azkaban into account; but we shan’t.

“You will always find and ally in me, my dear,” he assured her smoothly, another crooked smile lapping at his lips.

Augustus was never a man for planning ahead, it seemed. He had been, once when he was younger, naiver and more desperate to impress. He was no less eager now but the spur of the moment choice to intercept, to steal off Elsie for himself had been impulsive and now, faced with the opportunity to, indeed, divert her, Augustus began to wonder where he would take her. Money was no object. Nothing was an object, a hurdle for him to leap across. He could take her anywhere, to the moon if she so wished. However, the air was cool and her past excursions peppered with snow. Elsewhere, where Augustus preferred to lounge, the sun was hot and unforgivingly tentative to his skin.

Unconsciously, Augustus leaned in towards her, mirroring her body language. His eyes searched her pure little face and his mouth quirked upwards towards his eyes as he wondered idly whether or not she would take to his idea as he imagined she would. If impulsivity was what he was going to go for, though, then perhaps a surprise was in order.

“Then how long can I borrow you for?” Augustus inquired. “One needs time, after all, to be properly distracted.”

In America, Elsie had horribly endangered herself by putting her in the way of rich, powerful men that could, as Augustus was planning to do, distract her. Though her undoing had been that of a man of lowly status, the circumstances had been created by men of means. One too many unplanned nights of ignored consequences, one too many secrets spilled over pillows and breakfast, and one too many circumstantial situations that made her seem unable to handle these secrets. Her lovers had turned against her, and hired the one person close enough to her to eradicate the security threat she presented.

Imagine her surprise when the one man she could venture to say she loved had pulled a wand on her.

She had sworn to stay away from men who presented danger, but a new backdrop had lulled her into a false sense of security. If she were truly intent on keeping herself out of trouble, she would have never come to this party. Furthermore, she would have avoided the Rookwood patriarch at all costs, rather than find herself alone in his company, charmed by his pretty smiles and pretty words. But here she was, and there was no stopping the events to come now. She could see it in Augustus’ expression. And if he wasn’t going to stop it, she certainly wouldn’t.

She smiled, angling her face as she looked intently into his eyes. “I have all night, Mr Rookwood. No one is expecting me until tomorrow afternoon.”

“I can work with all night. Most definitely.”

Lifting himself lithely from his seat, Augustus took up Elsie’s hand and brought it to his lips, his moustache tickling the skin of her knuckles a little as his lips quirked up around her fingers. He turned, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm once more and he lifted his gaze briefly across the room, catching the eye of one of his investors. His smirk was insatiable, and rightly so, for not a second later, with a tug behind his naval, he and Elsie disappeared and reassembled themselves elsewhere. France elsewhere, to be exact. The Rookwood villa.

There had been no warning but the house was open, the furniture uncovered and not trussed up in sheets. Augustus blinked, not expecting the bright white light that rained down over them. He cleared his throat and dropped his arm before divesting himself of his suit jacket. A House Elf appeared with a crack and took the jacket and tie from his master before disappearing again. After popping open a few buttons of his shirt, August extended a hand outwards, indicating for Elsie to follow him.

Entering the kitchen, Augustus strayed immediately to the expansive wine rack under the counter island. After removing a bottle of burgundy that had what Augustus believed to be an exceptional date, he uncorked it and poured two hearty glasses out for them both. A little bird at the back of his mind accused him of over doing it but the other little bird defended himself expertly: it would never be enough.

“You should like this,” Augustus began, setting the two glasses down on the coffee table before the long, white sofa that spread out before the windows. “It’s a true red. Worthy of a cheeseboard, I should think.”

Then, as if mentioning it alone could summon it, a board of cheese and grapes appeared. Augustus chuckled, mostly to himself, and plucked a white grape off of the stalk, throwing it into his mouth before toeing off his shoes and sitting himself down against the comfort of the sofa next to Elsie. He smiled a little, albeit roughly, and drew his fingers through his hair, removing the gel with a little bit of magic so that it was puffy and more… more Augustus. Without the tie and without the shiny shoes, in a shirt and trousers he felt like he could breathe a little easier. Especially as he was away from the party.

“Tomorrow I’ll take you for breakfast in Paris,” he promised, turning his gaze back to her as he dropped his arm around the back of the sofa, adding, “and I’ll drop you to wherever you need to be in the afternoon.”

The terms had been set upon the table, the particulars had been negotiated, and the deal had been approved. If they were keeping in line with all the business talk. Though Elsie knew this was not business. If they were thinking business, both would know their actions were much too foolish to be pursued. So she was not going to draw attention to it. All of those concerns, those worries, those warnings were being flushed out of her systems with the anticipation of keeping Augustus' attention for even longer. And for reasons other than appearance too. They both profited from having each other's company in public. She was curious to see what profits he could see in solitude.

She thought she had an idea of what that could be.

She smiled as she followed his lead, letting him take her hand as she rose to her feet. They looked out upon the party and she, for what would be the final time that evening, found Arthur Gibbon's eyes on her. He knew a lost cause when he saw one. There was no competing with Augustus Rookwood - especially not if one wanted to continue find success and ease in high society. There was no challenging a Rookwood patriarch - not with good results, that was. Elsie smiled at him, an ironic gesture to inform Arthur that he would be fine as would she. He had played a hand in this turn of events - he could mull that over for another few years.

They disapparated and appeared in a location more elegant than the last. Elsie smiled. "I said a distraction, not a vacation." She grinned wider, a little more comfortable to press beyond socially acceptable coy and tread more expressive Elsie territory. "I take it back. I'm not going to argue against luxury."

A House Elf appeared and she smiled at the little creature, having missed her own for quite some time now. Living with Claire was great, but she was no House Elf. She was infinitely less helpful and infinitely more grouchy. The elk skittered off and Elsie followed after Augustus, pleased to remain so close, even in a space where there was no necessity for it.

He poured them both generous helpings of wine. "I'm sure I will. I've always liked reds. Deeper flavor." She sat at the sofa and took a drink, her eyes fluttering close. "Mm." She swallowed. "Yes, that's good." She looked to the newly arrived hors d'oeuvres before them and reached forward, taking a small slice of cheese. She allowed the flavors to melt in her mouth and smiled. Another drink of wine and she set the glass down to look at Augustus.

Well. Here they were. It had not taken them long to give up on the party. He had made himself comfortable, so she took his cue and reached down her long legs to unstrap herself from her shoes - great for fashion, horrible for toes. Free of the contraptions, she looked back to Augustus, glad to hear he had concocted a plan. She smiled. "Sounds lovely. It's been awhile since I've had Parisian food - you're pampering me." She grinned and then paused, a finger fluttering to her lips thoughtfully. "You didn't mention - how will we passing the time before breakfast? That's a time away." Her eyes sparkled - she was trouble.

“A distraction is a vacation,” Augustus retorted glibly with a half-smile.

It was a wholly true statement, one which had enabled Augustus to run away – and he’d run, too, without any sign of repentance. He didn’t know what he’d ducked out of this time except for the party. But it was the party itself in many ways. There was no little ghost of himself to see, no repeat of his world that he could watch as though taking notes, scribbling down the events that precipitated folly; that ruined any chance of happiness. He’d not found that. He’d not found, either, any evidence of there being a contrary – he supposed it was just better hidden. For the best, really.

Taking a sip from his glass, Augustus washed back the lingering taste of tobacco and absinthe, replacing it with the earthy flavour of the wine. He sighed contently, pressing the glass against his cheek briefly before leaning forward to place it back on the coffee table. As he sat back, he looked over at Elsie and chuckled a little. It seemed as though she was under no illusions as to what they’d be doing while they awaited breakfast but it didn’t stop Augustus from quipping:

“Oh, well, I have Scrabble here somewhere.”

But of course, there was no argument as to what it was they’d be doing – especially not now they were in France. He felt as though the whole thing was too easy, too desperate, and it pained him to be thinking that it was just so obvious, that he was going to move to kiss, to touch and to take Elsie to bed. A little bit of him did recognise it as vaguely pathetic but it wasn’t enough to stop his fingers from curling a lock of hair behind her ear in a small show of tenderness.

“We could start like this,” he murmured, leaning over to press a kiss to her jaw. “Then we’ll see, shall we?”

He could be dismayed with himself for being so obvious and highly pathetic in the morning. For now, it was about the fun of winning his prize.

“Touche,” she responded, leaving the wine where it was. She could do with another drink, she knew, but she also had a feeling it was going to be in the way. She was keeping her body language completely open. Hands rested on her knees, arms loose, legs hooked at the ankles, head tilted as her bouncy curls draped over her shoulder. And her expression – open, but showing nothing. It was because she had little to hide. Ten minutes ago, she had been at a pureblood party, and now she was here. It was not a coy game they were playing.

Why was she playing this game, though? Her choice in partner was not curious. Though Augustus was older, that had never deterred Elsie Norton. Maybe it was just to prove that she was still a wanted woman, a woman that men desired. Or maybe it did have something to do with spiting Arthur Gibbon and the likes of him – men who had passed her over because she did not seem well-bred enough having to hear rumors that she may or may have not entertained the best-bred man in the country. Or perhaps it was to remind her that there was not always strings attached to these entanglements.

That was probably it – she was chasing proof that there was still freedom in her life. That even though she was forcibly removed from her home and her life back in Manhattan, she still had some choice in what happened to her. It reminded her that she had the power to decide she wanted something and then find herself getting it. There was a good chance that her hiatus since she had lost Nash just had her clawing for human contact, but this freedom concept had a lot of validity to it. She would chalk it up to frustration, but she was really establishing her own independence.

And she had worn a cute bra that day. That could not go to waste, after all.

He pushed her hair back, using the movement to get closer to her. From this perspective, she could really look at him. She could see that there was truly light behind those eyes. Growing up, he had seemed so distant. Now an adult who could appreciate him, she could see something genuine in his face. Desire building in his eyes, certainty settling into his expression, the tenderness that this act naturally required but so often lacked. She tilted her head and he kissed her jaw. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her head tilted backwards. A hand of hers came up to touch his chest, before it slid to cup the back of his neck, inviting another, inviting more. From there, she could take more control.

Sex would always be easy. Driven by lust it was a carnal thing that didn’t encounter all of the mystifying avenues that the maze of human feeling led you down. Pealing back the pitch material from the soft, endless swathes of creamy skin that curled around ever muscle, protected every nerve and illuminated every womanly curve was simple. It was a case of peppering fingers preceding the trailing lips and brushing moustache. The chuckles elicited from little whines as his fingertips teased but never gave what building desire hankered after so desperately were natural. Lifting the small figure up into his arms, against his chest, was a familiar trope. The padding of his feet against the cool tiles, a path well-trodden. The sinking of bodies into the silken bed sheets, the sudden sloppiness of their actions as it built, built and built… it was inevitable. Sex was easy. Like a dance everyone in the world knew the steps to on instinct. Everything that came after was a difficulty in itself.

Spent, Augustus trailed a last, lingering handful of kisses down the length of Elsie’s spine, lingering briefly as her back curved into her derrière. His hands lifted along her sides from her legs and he swept her hair back from her neck, slipping a kiss against her nape before abandoning himself next to her with a thump, the bed groaning in complaint. He smirked a little to himself and brought an arm up, curling it underneath his head as he turned a little to look at Elsie, his other hand reaching to bring the sheets up around them as he lifted a smile to his lips. Augustus turned properly then, folding his arm around the young woman and tugging her gently to him. Involuntarily he let his head bury into her hair and he inhaled deeply the soft scent coming off of her skin and her bouncy curls. His fingers drew absent circles into the skin of her stomach and like that, he let himself drop off to sleep, revelling the feel of another human against him.

Sunshine was simultaneously intolerable and wonderful. Augustus shifted a little, arching into the feel of the sun’s caress upon his back and in doing so he drew Elsie closer to him. As he stretched into the sunshine, the first signs of true waking began to show and though he did not do so just yet, opting to snuggle back into the woman beside him, there was definitely a threat of oncoming wakefulness. The birds were chirping and the near fluttering of wings could be heard. A warm, sweet breeze was drifting in through the French doors that opened out onto the balcony and the rustle of the trees outside joined the cacophony of summer sounds but none of it made Augustus want to rise from the bed. He sighed softly, his breath ghosting over her shoulder.

“Master Rookwood?”

Dark, bleary eyes opened and Augustus lifted his head from Elsie’s neck, his eyes unseeingly falling upon the blurry figure of one of the House Elves. Augustus brought his hand up, out from under the sheets and gestured for the elf to come forward before dropping back once more, curling his arm around Elsie’s middle.

“Master Rookwood, sir. Lord Rookwood’s owl has arrived and Spinny wanted to know if Master Rookwood would require any-”

“No thank you, Spinny,” Augustus mumbled, closing his eyes. “Go ‘way.”

The House Elf did as directed if the quietly closing door was any indication at all. Augustus exhaled again, this time out of irritation. He was awake, painfully so, and though he inched nearer the woman clasped to him, he couldn’t stop the sudden flow of concerns that plagued him during his waking hours. Was this where it was meant to be? Did this business deal go alright? How is Kendall getting home? Where’s Katarina? Did he drink all of that absinthe? Although most were rather unimportant, business concerns did keep him awake and though Augustus tried to blot it out, he knew soon he’d have to get up. There was no avoiding it. The world was calling.