It was the hottest day of the year so far, Cora swore it.  The shop had been almost oppressively hot, without any cooling charms all of the heavy fabrics and the cramped space in the back was terrible around noon.  Her Great-grandmother, of course, said it was completely comfortable and refused to let Cora do anything to the back, and on top of it, ordered her to make tea for half of the afternoon… She still couldn’t believe on a day in the 20s, her grandmother insisted on keeping it warm in that shop.

Needless to say, when Cora finished up and closed the shop, she had been sweaty and disgusting – and just happy to be heading home.  After all, she had plans with Thomas (which involved picking up food on the way back to her flat) – and she needed to feed Winks! She'd found the little guy dirty and disgusting near the shop.  Her Great Grandmother had balked at the idea of bringing him inside, but Cora had felt so badly about him that she sneakily dropped him into a box, put some water in there and then grabbed food for him on her lunch break down the road at the menagerie.  He was so pitiful and he had just kept yowling - Cora had to put a muting charm on the box to keep it from her Great Grandmother.  She sneaked him out at the end of the day and took him home, cleaned up the little fur ball - he was missing an eye, he had a permanent little scowl... Cora instantly fell in love with the tiny thing.  She'd bought bowls and accessories for him almost immediately.  Thus, Winks had become one of her top priorities. 

Of course, after she attended to the kitten, she was getting in the bath and changing!  The last time they’d made plans that involved being in her flat… well… a healer had to come and that was just… Cora had made sure that she checked her entire flat for anything that might even hint at containing latex.  As sad as she was to see anything go, it was necessary.  She really didn’t want that to happen again. 

After stopping by one of her favorite little places to grab some take away, Cora couldn’t get home fast enough.  Well, that was untrue, she didn’t really want to rush because then she would sweat more.  Though, the sun was going down and it wasn’t as terrible.  Cora was just not the biggest fan of summer. 

She designed for winter – her favorite clothing was heavy, structured… even though she had quite a bit in her own collection for the warm months… it didn’t inspire her.  Thankfully, she had Runwitch to think about or she would have been completely drained of her creative edge.  The most creative she was going to get, she realized upon entering her flat, was with cooling charms and the bathtub, however.  When she entered, she heard the little squeal of a meow that was Winks' greeting - bounding from her bedroom to rub against her ankles.  "Hello there!" Cora greeted in an almost immediate and natural baby voice, leaning down to scratch behind his ear - the one with the little knick in it.  He leaned into her hand before chirping and running toward the kitchen.  He knew food time. 

Cora deposited the dinner on the counter and immediately pulled out her wand: first swish activated the cooling charms.  Rushes of cool air immediately started to clear out the humidity and Cora ran a single hand through her hair in relief.  Second swish: a little cup came out of a bag and poured the right amount of food into Winks' bowl.  Chores handled, she looked at the clock hanging on the wall – she didn’t have much time!  Peeling off the layers of sticky, sweaty clothes, Cora ran to the bathroom to attend to herself (she couldn’t be happy until she was truly clean) and did so quickly – afraid that Thomas would show up and she wouldn’t be able to answer the door. 

Thankfully, Cora was speedy in the face of a time crunch.  At barely ten minutes, she had washed and climbed out of the tub, wrapping a fluffy towel around herself before she darted to her bedroom to pull on something comfortable for the weather before she dried her hair with her wand, curling the strands just so and pinning them up with care while she listened for the door. 

outfit

Though the day had been warm, Thomas had spent a good portion of it inside. The wand shop was often kept cooler than others, so as not to warp the wood that had yet to be bonded with cores. Plus Severin hated to sweat, and loved his robes. Thomas had spent most of the day cataloging their inventory on wands, woods, cores, and boxes. He had a short list of items they needed to restock on, mainly fresh quills and ink, parchment for their ledger, and candles for around the shop.

The shopping for supplies had been short and sweet. Thomas didn’t mind a little window shopping now and again, but for the most part... he could get in and get out without extra purchases. He had his list, and he marked off the list. Then it was back to the shop.

Thomas was looking forward to having the evening and Saturday off. Sunday was still up in the air... he could choose to have it off, or he could mess around with some of their extra cores. It was important to work on his craft when he could. The options were there... and it was harder to choose his career when there was Cora that he could hang out with instead.

Decisions, decisions.

That he could make at a later time. Once the quills were sharpened, he’d popped upstairs for a quick freshen up (a dab of cologne, fingers through his hair, and a mint in his mouth) before saying goodbye to his Uncle and popping in the floo.

Once he was at Cora’s door, he knocked loudly and waited, wine bottle in hand.

 “Cooooooming!” Cora called out brightly, checking her hair in the mirror with a careful flip to make sure she hadn’t missed a pin or anything of the sort.  Satisfied that her hair wasn’t going anywhere, she grabbed a little glass bottle from her shelf and carefully sprayed a dollop on her inner wrist, rubbing both together to spread out the sweet, fruity smell that was reminiscent of champagne and pomegranates. 

She, of course, had to spray once behind her neck, rolling her head and then a little spritz down the neck of her shirt… and like her mother had always said one spray behind each knee… just because that’s what a good perfume-wearer did.  She tried not to take too long, but she had to cap the little bottle again and then put down her wand on her vanity before she darted out of the door and down the tiny hallway to the front door. 

Throwing it open, Cora was smiling from ear to ear.  “Bonjour!” she greeted in her typical, abysmal French accent.  Cora was absolutely horrid at it, but she was trying.  She greeted him customarily, with a kiss on each cheek and then wrapped her arms around his neck (up on her tiptoes) and pressed a proper kiss to his lips. 

“I am so happy you’re here,” she grinned as she lowered herself onto the whole of her soles.  There was a sort of awkward yowl-y sound that came from the hallway and Cora turned her head, giggling as Winks bounded forward, tail high and ears perked forward – obviously curious.  “Winks feels the same,” she grinned and let her hands drop, sliding down his arms before she reached his wrists and pulled him into the door. Winks, of course, took the opportunity to weave in between his ankles, purring wildly. 

She shut the door behind her.  “I picked up the carry out and it looks like you’ve taken care of the refreshments,” she teased motioning to the wine and turned on her foot to walk back toward the living room.  “How was your day?” she glanced over her shoulder, “make anything interesting?  Exploding cores or any of that?”  Cora tore the bag the take away was housed in and pursed her lips for a moment.  "It was dreadful hot in the shop today - I thought I might melt!" she complained and set out cutlery.  "Thank goodness for cooling charms at home."  She held out a complete meal and spread with napkin toward him.  "Watch, the bottom of the container is hot."

There was some time to stand around and glance down the hall while he waited for her to come to the door. Thomas rocked back on his heels, reading the label of the wine, and finally looking up with a grin when the door opened. “Bonjour.” His greeting was a little more lax, perhaps, and he greeted her back in kind. He couldn’t help but grin against her lips before leaning into it, his free arm wrapping around her and pulling her in close.

“Oh? Yeah, me too.” Thomas was always happy to see Cora. She definitely made his stomach flop and heart squeeze too tightly sometimes, but all those were perfectly normal reactions, right? He nearly tripped over Winks, having nearly forgotten about the rescued cat. He leaned down to briefly scratch between the ears, glancing up to Cora as she talked.

“Take away sounds perfect.” He stood back up and followed after her. “It was productive... and no, I have all my fingers still.” He waggled them behind her in defiance, grinning. Thomas sat the bottle of wine on the counter next to the take away, admiring it over her shoulder. He kissed her cheek gently before pulling away and walking into the kitchen for a bottle opener.

It was always interesting to hear her day; she had such a way with embellishing the smallest things. It was endearing. “It’s definitely a lot cooler in here than outside.” When he came back around the corner from the kitchen, he accepted his meal and sat it down, working on the cork. “Thank you. It smells delicious.” Once the wine bottle was open, he poured them each a glassful.

When they moved to the table, he set their glasses down first before bringing his container over. Once they sat down, he spread his napkin over his lap and lifted the wine glass. “To a cooler evening, with a cool girl.” He grinned at his ridiculousness.

Winks leaned into Thomas’ hand, meowing softly as his body vibrated with a purr.  That cat was always so attached to him.  Maybe Winks took a cue from his owner because Cora was pretty attached herself.  Smiling at him for a moment, she turned to the kitchen counter (connected to the living room).  She could hear Thomas’ footfalls behind her and the soft padding of kitten feet trying to keep up.  Noticeably, however, they stopped when Thomas did. 

If the grin on her face took on a sinister little shine when he said he still had all of his fingers, Cora pretended it didn’t as she breathed in relief.  “Oh good – I wouldn’t want anything to happen to those very talented digits,” she bit her lip as she looked at him from under her thick eyelashes, giggling as he kissed her cheek.  While Cora valued her own space and private time (she used it to design and paint, whatever she felt in the mood for), she couldn’t help but really enjoy the nights she got to spend in her flat with another person. 

Thomas made her happy, and though she hadn’t really shared any details with her great grandmother about her relationship (obviously – it wasn’t her business and she always got so damned nosy), Cora knew the woman had at least an inkling of a suspicion – after the endless comments of ‘You can’t be this happy unless you’re besotted’ to which Cora never quite responded. 

The little rhythm that had started with him getting the wine bottle ready and her pulling out what they needed to eat – Cora just saw how well it was starting to fit together.  Usually, when she had someone she liked she didn’t even like them this much – she didn’t want to be around them all the time.  She liked her alone time.  But, alone time seemed so much less.. fun when she thought about time with Thomas. 

She made her way to the table, finally, and took a seat, spreading out her napkin and took her glass in her hand, rolling her eyes at his silly cheers to the evening.  “I’m not sure I want things to be too cool,” she grinned and leaned forward to clink her glass against his, “but the sentiment is very much appreciated.” 

Taking a sip of her glass before she put it down, Cora nestled back in her seat to dig her fork into the container – who needed plates? “That’s really good,” she motioned the rounded end of the fork toward the glass before she put the forkful in her mouth, letting her shoulders drop and eyes close: after a long day at work, food was amazing.  It might have been embarrassing if in front of anyone else she let out a little moan of happiness.  “So good,” she mumbled in a sort of mouth-half-full kind of way, getting ready to get another forkful. 

Strangely though, there was a knock at the door as she was about to lift her fork back up and Cora’s attention immediately shifted.  “What the…?”  glancing at Thomas, she pouted.  “One second,” she excused herself and stood quickly, bounding to the door on tip toes.  She hadn’t even noticed the splotch of a sauce that was sitting on the corner of her mouth as she opened the door.  “Gramma!” she exclaimed, in a surprised (and sort of mortified kind of way).  Her great grandmother was standing there in her robes, looking exceedingly displeased.  Her nose was turned up, her eyes cast down, and she was carrying a rather large parcel – picture shaped - wrapped in brown paper.  “I wasn’t expecting you… you should come in!” she said perhaps too loudly for the old woman (who informed her she was not deaf and did not need an invitation shouted at her), but Cora did it for Thomas’ benefit.

Cora stood out of the way, so the intimidating woman could brush past her into the hallway and make her way down, glancing back at her great granddaughter.  “Coralie, dear, why didn’t you tell me you were living in such conditions?” she frowned, running her finger over the wall, and then flicked off any dust with disdain.  Cora cleared her throat and shrugged, unsure of how to respond.  “I’ll send a witch with some capable cleaning capacities since you’re lacking.  I would have…” the woman’s monologue came to an end as she came into the room where they’d been eating.

Only able to mouth an apology to Thomas from behind her great grandmother’s back, Madame Malkin reached up and removed her glasses, slowly training her eyes over the young man.  “I wasn’t aware you had company, Coralie.” 

The package suddenly piped up, “Company?!  Well, unwrap me you ninny! I’d like to have a look.”  Cora had heard that voice before.  She couldn’t place it… but… oh.  Running her fingers over her shorts, she took a deep breath and ducked in front of her grandmother, taking up the space between her and Thomas.  “Gramma,” she smiled a little bit too hard, “this is Thomas… Thomas, this is… my Gramma…”

“Thomas!” the package called out again, still muffled by the brown paper.  “Well, I never! A man in her home? Unchaperoned?!  You've been slacking, Fanny, dear!” 

That look, and her words, caused a fierce blush across his cheeks. Thomas instantly stammered. “I-I, well, yes. I mean, no, no. Definitely don’t want anything to... want them all.” He swallowed and grinned, unable to help the way his eyes roamed. And if anything, his blush spread further, to the tip of his ears. Memories of numerous occasions with her and his fingers... He nodded again in agreement.

He was comfortable around her, for the most part. She still happened to catch him off guard more often than he was used to, but he was growing to like it. She offered him surprises that he never realized he wanted sprung on him. A couple of unfortunate incidents excluded. He’d even taken her on another picnic, near the town he lived in, in a wonderfully small garden park. The tent had been easier to set up, that time, and they spent more time on the blanket talking and drinking wine than sitting proper and eating.

Thomas was really looking forward to the summer. He already had ideas for the beach. He just hadn’t told Cora yet. He nearly tripped over the cat again on his way to the table, jaw grit as he tried not to curse. Food and wine almost went everywhere.

With wine glass in hand (and his butt firmly planted in a chair), Thomas could grin easily and complete his toast. He sipped the wine after giving it a nice inhale, appreciating the bold fruitiness with a soft groan of appreciation. His fork was picked up, digging into the food she encouraged him to eat. “It looks really good.” He stuffed a mouthful in, barely managing to keep his lips closed around it as he smiled at her reaction. Thomas agreed as he chewed thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair to fully enjoy-

The knock made him frown a little, glancing from the front of the apartment and back to Cora. He worked his tongue around his teeth to get the food out, to properly swallow, nodding as she stood to get the door. Fork was sat down (after a quick little bite), wiping his mouth and hands off as he chewed. Thomas heard some commotion, taking a sip of wine to help his extra bite go down- wait, had he heard...

“-you should come in!”

Thomas choked, wide eyed, as he hurried to wipe his face off, tongue running across his teeth once again. Who was it? The hair on the back of his neck stood up, setting the napkin down on the table just as... Thomas heard the quiet more than he felt the staring. Glancing up, he gave the older woman both a surprised look and a (friendly-ish) smile of greeting.

The added conversation from the wrapped - what was that? - thing, portrait? It stopped the words from coming out, a grunt of air escaping. Eyes darted from Cora to the older woman (obviously the dreaded great grandmother) and back again. Finally he remembered his manners; he stood up quickly, nearly knocking the chair over in the process, and cleared his throat. “It’s-”

He jumped as the brown sack called his name. He was a wizard, and used to all sorts of odd and sometimes difficult to explain situations, but he had never been talked to from inside a paper bag. He licked his lips and stepped forward, offering his hand out for hers. “Madame Malkin? I’ve heard wonderful things. It's clear beauty and brains run on the Malkin side of the family.” Once he had her hand, he gently leaned forward, placing a single kiss to her cheek, stepping back and letting go. “Thomas Vaillancourt. Would, ah... would you like a glass of wine?”

Grandmothers and children; he was usually well received.

Cora sincerely hoped that her great grandmother would behave herself.  She wasn’t supposed to just drop in – that wasn’t a thing she did.  Hell, it wasn’t a thing anyone in her family did.  They all had their own lives.  Though she’d grown up with Fanny Malkin, the woman was fiercely independent and had a rather brash way about herself, couched in her proper exterior. 

Watching the older woman’s face, Cora bit the inside of her cheek.  She wsa hard to read.  Cora liked when she was being snarky and saying vaguely hurtful things.  At least then Cora knew what she was thinking.  Go figure she’d put the filter on right now as she slowly removed her sunglasses and looked over Thomas with a scrutinizing look.  She lowered the package to the floor (the woman’s voice in the paper shouted in surprise), but Fanny Malkin did not seem fazed at all. 

She put out her hand slowly, and Cora waited with baited breath to see how this played out in front of her.  Malkin’s lips quirked into a smile (kind of like a shark, Cora thought) and allowed Thomas to kiss her cheek, notably though, she only lifted her chin and did not kiss back.  A little too continental for the very British witch, Cora thought.  “Thomas Vaillancourt,” Gramma finally repeated in a sort of knowing way – Cora had mentioned his purchases more than once, “Well, it certainly seems to be a pleasure.”  There was a pause, “That wine would be pleasant now,” she added coolly. 

The package, of course, was still squabbling about something and when Fanny Malkin was assured that Thomas was not in the room anymore, she looked at Cora.  “Oh, I know you enjoy this art business,” she said as though it was completely inexplicable to her that someone could enjoy art (the woman was a fashion designer – it was all art!  But apparently anything that did not use fabric was a foreign matter entirely).  “And I was rummaging through the spare room when I came upon this.”  She motioned to the parcel and Cora couldn’t help herself, she was curious. 

She leaned it against the couch corner and Cora ripped at the brown paper, revealing the portrait of a rather robust woman. Cora immediately recognized the portrait – it used to hang in the tea room with some of the other Malkin women’s portraits, always chattering about some gossip or another.  She grasped her hand against her somewhat too exposed chest and pretended to suck in a deep breath.  “That packaging!” she squawked, “how horrid!” 

Shaking her head, the woman in the portrait closed her eyes.  “Did I hear the name Vaillancourt?” she peered around, “now that is an old family!” she seemed impressed.  Cora was frankly surprised at the whole thing and dropped the paper she’d ripped off the portrait on the floor. 

“Charming, isn’t it?” Fanny smiled – almost looking too satisfied with herself.  For some reason, Cora now imagined this delivery was not by accident.  Fanny again turned herself away from the portrait – perhaps looking for her glass of wine (Cora imagined she’d need it after carrying this portrait around).  Cora licked her lips and tried to quirk a smile at the portrait.  “I believe you did – hear that, that is,” she continued to force the smile. 

“I am not an it!” she replied in a huff, “I am Lady Helena Malkin!” she directed at her great grandmother.  Her eyes turned back to Cora, “always so disrespectful my great niece.”  Ah yes… family ties.  They always seemed to come back.  “Is this Vaillancourt your betrothed?” she asked easily, “I imagine he must be – what an advantageous match and for a seamstress!  Halfblood at that,” there was some form of disbelief, “Youngest born, is he?” she lifted her chin and looked around – finally catching a look at the target of her speculation. 

The woman sniffed and frowned.  “I must say, not holding a candle to Lester Vaillancourt – such broad shoulders that man had!” she looked up as if in the middle of a fond memory, “And fine taste in robes – always dressed to perfection.”  Her dull, painted brown eyes hovered back to her target – clearly trying to make a point. 

Cora laughed uneasily, “Is… that so?” she didn’t really ask, but didn’t know what to say.  “I… didn’t know.”  She looked to Thomas, “Do you know who Lester Vaillancourt is?” 

Thomas wasn’t completely sure how to read Cora’s great grandmother. Sometimes, when he was working in the shop, you could tell a persons demeanor by the way they talked, walked, interacted with others. What he knew of her, from Cora’s perspective, didn’t help. She was already colored a certain way, in his mind.

The smile stayed on his face, even as he was dismissed. Even if he wanted to be. He glanced to Cora and the smile became more genuine, softening, before he lifted the wine and headed to grab another glass.

The women were not being quiet as he fumbled about the cabinet, pulling a glass down and filling it halfway. Thomas decided to leave the bottle in the kitchen, for now. With glass in hand, he made his way back out to where they were. He nearly dropped it at the word betrothed, eyes widening before he caught himself, wine sloshing against the sides before settling down. He looked around until he spotted the - oh. Oh. His family had a few of those, though to be honest, he tried not to converse with them often.

After giving the glass to Cora’s great grandmother, he stood near them awkwardly, hands held lightly behind his back. He cleared his throat and shook his head, about to explain his place amongst his siblings. The painting continued talking, however, and he closed his mouth. Lester... Thomas was fairly certain that was on his Uncle Severin’s side of the Vaillancourt’s. The dig at his wardrobe went right over his head. “If it was Malkin made, I’m sure the robes were perfection.” He gave the painting a smile.

Glancing up to Cora, eyebrows rose before he furrowed them in thought. “I do...” He drew it out as he attempted to piece it all together. Thomas was not the best person to ask about family lineage. “I believe he’s my Uncle Severin’s grandfather. Or great.” Which was quite a few generations. Finally he looked to Cora’s great grandmother and fought for words. He could be totally not awkward right now!

“So... you must be thrilled Cora’s designing for Runwitch?” He scratched the side of his head before running fingers through his hair, grinning before stuffing his hand in his pocket.

There was something entirely mortifying about listening to a portrait of a long dead family member when it was just you and your family.  The added unfortunateness of doing it in front of her boyfriend – with her boyfriend was just… too much.  Cora felt like she could just smack her palm against her face and just wait for it to be over. 

She couldn’t even imagine how Thomas felt even though he didn’t look like he was breaking a sweat at all.  Cora was normally very carefree and easy going, but this was on edge for her.  Everything about it was uncomfortable. 

The portrait had an even chillier facacde than her great grandmother had.  Fanny Malkin might have been a beast of a business woman and a tyrant on a bad day, but Lady Helena… the way she looked at Thomas, even as he was trying to be his most charming –at least the current matriarch of the Malkin clan smirked.  Cora couldn’t tell if she actually found him charming (like Cora did) or if she found him amusing in the way a cat might find a bug amusing before pouncing on it. 

“Yes, it was perhaps the only thing my late, third husband – rest his soul - was particularly skilled at,” she commented and pursed her lips at him.  It was as though something that smelled bad might have slipped under his nose.  Was there no winning?  First it was advantageous and now it was like a curse from her ex husband. 

There was a bit of silence though, and that was oddly extra uncomfortable until Thomas spoke up and when she thought things could not get any worse.  Oh.. Her grandmother’s eyes turned sharply toward her and her mouth set in a line that scared her.  Cora’s mouth dropped and she looked to Thomas with the sense of betrayal that he couldn’t have possibly known about.  She couldn’t blame him, was her first reminder to herself, even if she wanted to throw something at him. 

Damage control – damage control! More important than throwing anything.  In a bit of a tizzy, Cora took a deep breath and bit her bottom lip.  “I was going to say something…” she started awkwardly, “It had only been mentioned in passing… really… and I only got confirmation… recently…” it was word vomit – like a spell gone wrong. 

The portrait scoffed and shook her head.  “Secrets did in my first husband,” she interjected into the conversation without any invitation at all.  “I believe it was an arrhythmia – something to do with the heart,” she shrugged.  “I was barely twenty at the time... but turns out he was running an illicit gambling ring on abraxon racing…”  She looked at Cora, “you share no relation – but…”

She let it hang in the air, as htough they were all supposed to make the connection.  Instead, Fanny waved her hand at the portrait and frowned.  Fanny did not look as though she wanted to talk about it right now.  “This is,” she frowned, “perhaps a discussion for the shop,” her voice was crisp – that was the voice that Cora recognized from childhood – like the voice when she’d broken her gramma’s sewing machine. 

“It’s a really great opportunity,” Cora smiled weakly, noticing for the first time that her Gramma’s glass had emptied by half in the last few minutes.  This was terrible.  “And the samples they sent for… Ms. Islington has worn some of them…” Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to enchant her gramma and sent the portrait off on a tangent about the Islington family and rubbing elbows…

Thomas had no response to the portrait’s statements. At least the man was skilled at something beyond putting up with her. So he merely smiled and nodded, agreeing with what she seemed to want agreed to. No need to keep digging his grave with a spoon.

He was momentarily peacefully oblivious to the awkwardness that settled amongst the group from the words that weren’t meant to slip from his mouth. Weren’t they celebrating? And wasn’t her grandmother - oh... His smile fell and eyes widened before he tried to backtrack. “Well-” No. Thomas had helped her with her own hole quite well enough. Mouth closed and he rested his hands on his hips, grimacing at himself as he watched the two converse.

Thomas mouthed an I’m sorry to Cora before his shoulder slumped just slightly. Shit, this wasn’t good. He scowled, briefly, at the portrait before frowning as he looked back up at the two actual people standing in front of him. He’d screwed up big time.

He cleared his throat and shifted his feet before slipping a hand into his shorts pocket. “In the wand business, it’s always important to get the name of the product out there. The more familiar the public is with a name and brand, the... better your patronage.” Basic business economics, right? Thomas shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “Cora makes some sharp robes.” He should know; he wore them for work.

If Cora didn’t like Thomas so much she would have hexed him in the face.  He was trying and that was sweet – which made her angry feels even more conflicted because she really could have (and would have) – but he was really cute and he mouthed he was sorry to her.  Despite the bubbling of anxiety in her stomach, she couldn’t even concentrate because of the incessant talking from the portrait. 

Oh this was absolutely terrible. 

Picking at the skin on the back of her hand, Cora waited anxiously for her great grandmother’s response, but she had put on her stone face and that was it.  Cora tried to talk and that wasn’t going to go anywhere because it was deemed a shop issue and since they were in her flat… oh it was absolutely terrible.  Frowning, she winced a little as she continued to pick and felt her stomach going up into her throat.

But, Thomas seemed okay with talking and since no one was paying the Lady Helena any mind, she seemed like she was bristling, but at least quiet again – perhaps there was some kind of charm he had because he was talking and her grandmother actually turned her head to look at him.  “You’re right – about the business,” her grandmother made sure to say, sliding a look to Cora. 

It was terrible when she didn’t really have much to say about Cora’s work.  It stung a little bit, since Cora tried to be as confident as she could be and the one person who taught her everything was so critical.  “But, making decisions in a… fickle business is much different than something like wand craft.” 

The portrait crowed.  “Oh, is that wand shop still around?  Truly?  I’d have thought the Parisians would have gone out of sorts by now: nothing like a sturdy, English wand! I’ve only had two, but I couldn’t imagine anything else.”  Cora absently wondered if the reference was to Ollivander or something else… Either way, it was… enough to make Cora want to snap back a little bit.

“I mean,” Cora looked to Thomas, “I’ve seen some of Thomas’ work and I’m considering switching over to French wands entirely,” she crossed the little space and wrapped her arm around his back – maybe just maybe as she dipped her shoulder to fit under his arm skimming his bottom end… because that’s what she did, and defiantly looked at the portrait – and her grandmother for their reactions.