With unsteady hands, Elijah began to button up plum purple coat that fell to his daughter’s knees. He was knelt down on the marble floor before her, ignoring the looks of exasperation from the House Elves that had washed and ironed the trousers he was wearing that very morn. Her socks, he’d pulled up to her thighs that morning. She was wearing a pinafore-type dress that was an off white that reminded Elijah of the emeralds that hung from his mother’s earlobes during a winter gala one year. He was young and Cecilia younger still. He doubted she’d remember but he did. He remembered it as if it were yesterday. She’d worn a black dress that hugged her figure. It reached the floor but not enough to drag, just enough to caress. Elijah remembered thinking her the most beautiful woman in the world; until of course he was told by his grandfather that it was his mother. The man had seen the crestfallen look on Elijah’s face and began to tell the boy a tale, one that was brought to life and recited in such detail in her diary.
Yes, the diary; the diary that was burning a hole, figuratively, in the dark leather satchel hanging from Elijah’s shoulders. The locket that was ice cold against his chest seemed to call to the odd book that held the last connection he had to his mother. He had a feeling that both were made by a man named Alois Franko. He was highly appraised by Marina if Elijah remembered rightly and he could recall seeing the man at one of the balls she threw wearing a necklace similar in design to the locket. Elijah knew that if Alois didn’t make the items then he knew the person that did. The only thing standing in Elijah’s way was the hundreds of miles between Sofia and the tiny village on the Swiss-Austrian border where the man lived. He got around that quite easily, though. He’d gone through the family inventory and found that they had cottage of sorts in their possession, one that sat on the banks of the Rhine. He’d noted at the time that it had last been inhabited by Fitzgerald Krum, fondly referred to as ‘Fitzy’, in the early twentieth century. Elijah had yet to look at the tree and find out exactly where ‘Fitzy’ fit in. His soul goal at present was to find Franko and until he did, he wouldn’t be content.
It was that desire that brought Elijah to this moment. His hands had steadied and were picking up pace as he buttoned up Fauve’s coat. Once he was done, he reached down and pressed down the clasps on her shoes. He looked up at her and smiled a little although it soon fell from his lips. “Are you ready?” He asked quietly. His voice was tired, drawn yet still as sultry as ever. Fauve nodded and he took the hat from her hands. He placed it upon the fountain of curls falling from her scalp and let the white, satin ribbons fall against the plum coat. She smiled brightly at Elijah and held up her arm so he could look at the charm bracelet that hugged her wrist. A giggle left her lips and she hopped away from her father. She bounced over to where Harry was stood and he picked her up. Elijah, unconsciously deciding to remain on the floor, watched with a thoughtful expression on his face. Harry set Fauve down and murmured something in her ear. She grinned and ran off in the direction of the kitchen, giving Harry and Elijah time to themselves.
“You didn’t mention Austria,” Harry began the conversation by stating the obvious. Elijah winced. He’d hoped to perhaps get away with going and not having to say anything to his cousin. He knew that Arlene wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut. He didn’t know why he’d told her really. She adored her eldest son; if she knew something he didn’t she would gladly fill him in. “Yesterday when we were sat at the dinner table, when everyone was drinking and eating, you didn’t think to mention you were leaving?” Harry asked heatedly, his gaze accusatory. Elijah sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Elijah do not ignore me!” Harry hissed. Elijah’s eyes darted to meet his cousin’s. For the first time ever, he was afraid of what he was going to find there. “I only wanted a goodbye,” Harry’s anger disappeared and turned to sadness, making guilt flood Elijah.
Sighing again, Elijah began to play with one of the many rings on his fingers. “I didn’t want to say goodbye.” Elijah admitted quietly, avoiding Harry’s dark, penetrating gaze that was becoming steelier by each passing moment. Elijah found himself getting up and walking towards his cousin. Harry took the young man into his arms without question and Elijah rested his head against his cousin’s chest. “I am afraid to say goodbye to you, Harry. It means so much to say goodbye. I have said goodbye to too many people. It is not a meaningless word that so many speak. It is finality.” Harry opened his mouth to speak but Elijah cut him off, looking up at him. “Not always though.” Harry closed his mouth and nodded, smiling slightly. Elijah put his hand on Harry’s cheek and tilted the elder man’s face to his. Elijah placed a kiss at the corner of Harry’s lips before stepping away. “Goodbye,” he murmured.
Harry blinked in surprise at Elijah. His hand reached for the banister and once it had found it, he began to climb the stairs backwards. He smiled all of a sudden, though. “Get me something nice won’t you?” He requested as he climbed the marble. Elijah laughed and nodded. “Good! I want a big hat!” he exclaimed with a sudden grin. When he reached the top of the half landing, Harry turned and began to climb the rest. Before reaching the top however, he turned and leaned over the side to speak to Elijah. “Thierry is with Chase by the way.” He called before darting out of sight, no doubt to return to whatever studies he’d been doing prior to seeking Elijah out.
The Bulgarian smiled to himself and looked over at the luggage the House Elves (and Gavrilo) had brought down that morning. He pushed the cuffs of his shirt and blazer back to look at the time. It read twenty-five to eleven. They had twenty-five minutes before their train left for Serbia. It would cut through the country and enter Bosnia. They’d stop in Sarajevo and then from there change train’s and go straight through Croatia and Slovenia to Austria. Then finally, once they reached Graz, they’d get one more train that would take them to the Swiss-Austrian border village where the house and the man were situated. Elijah was nervous. They had a long trip ahead of them, one that the children would either sleep through or enjoy immensely. Elijah hoped for a bit of both and he made sure they’d take time off in Sarajevo and Graz to stretch their legs before hopping back on a train. Elijah was prepared...somewhat.
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