Thomas fretted with his sweater, straightening it out for the tenth time. He half turned in the mirror, making sure it didn’t bunch up all wrong. Once he was happy with it, he bent over and dusted off the top of his loafers. It was a typical holiday sweater vest, with a design across the chest. It relaxed him. The deep blue hues popped against the khaki trousers he wore. Of course, he never stepped out for an important event without first putting it past his wonderful girlfriend who happened to have an eye for style.

“How about this one?” It was probably the third sweater he’d pulled out for her to inspect, and he hoped it would be the final one. The collar shirt was pressed underneath, a light blue against the darker shade of the sweater vest. Thumbs came up as his face held questioning optimism.

It had been a whirlwind of a year. It might have even been the best year of his life. Thomas wasn’t always so bold with statements like that. In fact... if he had ever thought it before, he doubt he’d have told anyone.

With Cora, it was just different. He had other interests outside of work that he could focus on, now. She brightened his day, his week, his month. She had helped him experience things he’d never expected to... maybe had hoped for, but didn’t dream... Well. Suffice to say he was happy with what she had shown him. He only hoped that he had returned the favor, even a little bit.

Thomas pocketed his wand and slipped his watch on, glancing down at it absentmindedly. “We still have some time.”

Cora lounged on the bed, watching Thomas get ready with a soft smile.  Her dress was still lying on the edge of the bed, waiting to be put on – but she didn’t want to get anything wrinkled or ruined beforehand.  So, she just reclined, her elbows digging into the duvet.  She’d offered several pieces of advice so far, begged for the horrendous red reindeer jumper to be put out of its misery and into her rubbish bin.  Then it could have found where it belonged. 

He had tried to argue red was a good color for him.  Cora, though she agreed under most circumstances – and made sure to say so, had not been amused.  She’d suggested the blue and was idly waiting to see.  Winks curled up next to her, purring against her hip and even from behind Cora could tell she liked this look much better. 

The blue cut a better figure on him and the design was much less everything.  “I like it,” she appraised genuinely, “blue is a much better color for you.”  She pushed herself up and Winks grumbled, lifting his head and blinking his eye at her.  Cora scratched lightly behind his ears before he leaned into her hand and she was able to push herself up into sitting, kicking her feet over the edge of the bed as she scooted down.  “You know my grandma doesn’t tolerate ‘fashionably late,’” she smiled playfully, “especially because it shows such a lack of discipline…”

Her eyes sparkled.  She’d been hearing about it for months.  She was late, she was distracted, and she was whatever her great grandmother could fill in the blank with.  Ever since the shoot and the business that it generated for the store, suddenly Cora’s hobby had become one of the most important parts of the business and there wasn’t room for anything fun anymore.  Cora had to disagree.  She was very happy, enjoying some success and notoriety as well as a very happy personal life. 

Standing up from the edge of the bed, Cora narrowed her eyes and leaned forward.  “Your collar is a mess,” she noticed, now that he had turned and she got a much better look at him.  “Come here, I’ll fix it,” she beckoned, “then you can help me.” 

Thomas refused to throw the reindeer away. It was one of his favorite jumpers! And considering, it was fairing pretty well through the holidays, year after year. It had been his go-to holiday jumper. He had purchased two at the time he saw it, but Cora didn’t need to know that. He was, however, open to ideas, and had willingly taken it off in favor of something else. It wasn’t his family they were going to see, after all.

A faint blush came to his cheeks as he smiled at her praise. Not that it had ever really gone away. Not with her not in her dress yet... and his eyes having an early feast. It had made getting dressed more difficult.

He blinked as his gaze traveled back up to her face. “I... uh... yes. I think you... Yes I mean, I know that.” Thomas reddened as he tried not to focus on... They had to get there in a reasonable amount of time! Thomas wound his watch before clearing his throat. He stole another look at her before he swallowed hard.

The reprimand made him frown slightly, fingers dusting over the collar before he moved over to her. “You know I can’t see behind me.” He gave her a small, playful smirk. “What could you possibly need help with? You’re already gorgeous.”

Cora laughed as he fumbled over his words.  It was that inherent sweetness about him.  Cora liked it very much.  She found his lack of eloquence charming and a sign that she still had his full attention.  Sometimes, it was easy to see where a guy lost interest in a relationship.  Where it stopped still being fresh and exciting and new.  The transition marked comfort on one hand, but also… a lack of appreciation on the other.   Cora did not feel that lack with Thomas. 

When he came over, Cora immediately reached up and started to fix the mussed collar.  It was bent the wrong way and part of it was collapsed, but nothing the quick work of a pair of skilled hands couldn’t fix.  Placing a surprisingly chaste kiss on his chin, Cora nodded.  “That’s why I do it for you, darling,” she let her hands slide from the back of his collar to over his shoulders and down his collarbones. 

The fabric of the sweater was soft.  “I like this,” she flexed and dug in her fingernails to the fabric.  “I might have to steal it,” she wrinkled her nose at him before laughing at his question.  “You need to help my zip, obviously,” she rolled her eyes at him – in a playful way, of course, and bent her knees to pick up the sparkly dress.  It was a bit modern for her great grandmother, but Cora was essentially allowed to do anything with fashion now without comment that she had actually proven herself a bit.  It was just everything else that had question marks for people now. 

Stepping into the fabric, Cora shimmied it up over her hips and shrugged her arms into it, doing a little turn on the toes of her wedges, swinging her hips a little.  “A hand, please?” she glanced over her shoulder. 

While she messed with his collar, Thomas rested a hand on her hip, smiling softly as she made quick work of it. He kissed her nose back before his hand pulled away. “It’s easier than trying to find a second mirror to look into.” She did a lot for him that he truly appreciated, and probably a fair amount of things that he should appreciate and he didn’t realize. Thomas tucked the back of his shirt in a little, the belt snug around his hips.

Eyes traveled down to her hands, a chuckle slipping out. “Wouldn’t that be something? Sleep over in my sweater.” His tongue slipped out teasingly. “Though I think you’d look better in my red one.” Especially the way the antlers went. He was lost in that thought, nodding after the fact to her obvious need.

Thomas was used to having trouble walking around Cora. He watched as she pulled the dress up, biting his lower lip as she did. “Huh?” After a blink, her words fuddled through his thick brain. “Oh! Yes, of course.” He stepped up and focused on the zipper, careful to not catch her hair or skin as he pulled it up. His hands rested on her hips before he kissed her neck. It was a gentle kiss, barely a touch of his lips, his breath slipping out in a tease.

“You look delicious.” Thomas grinned and pulled away, taking a moment to rearrange the shirt in the front now too. Once everything was in its place, he cleared his throat and offered his hand to her. “Mademoiselle?” He laid on a thicker French accent just for her as he sprouted off a few questions to her in his native tongue. All with a knowing grin. She was picking things up well enough, and he'd been very willing to teach her plenty of bedroom appropriate phrases.

Actually, the idea wasn’t a half bad idea.  Cora was like a little dragon in that respect, if she liked something she was bound to hoard it or at least play with it for a bit.  The jumper might become a casualty of that later in the evening.  Blue was also a color that worked for her, as evidenced by the steely-blue hue that she was going to sport.  It glimmered silver in some angles, blue in others… distracted! 

Shaking her head, Cora grimaced as he continued to talk about that despicable red jumper after such a good suggestion about the blue one.  “The only place that jumper will look good is on the bottom of the rubbish bin,” she clarified. Her feelings about that red jumper would not change no matter who was wearing it and where it was worn.  Some things were not made for wearing.  She was positive that item was one of them.  Not even at Christmas would she make that sacrifice.  “Maybe we’ll just… lose the jumpers later,” she offered with a wink and resumed getting ready. 

She’d done all of the precursory things – make up, hair – all of that with flicks of her wand and different products.  It was important that she look nice!  Oliver, Florence and the little ones would be there and Tristan was home from school… Christmas was one of those rare times they all got together and Cora just wanted to be impressive.  She wanted everyone to take her seriously. 

It was hard to take anything seriously when Thomas pressed his lips to the back of her neck and sent shivers down her spine.  Closing her eyes, Cora imagined that they could waste a good bit of time if he kept up.  “Good enough to eat?” she bit her bottom lip and winked.  She knew the answer to that all too well and placed her hands in his.   

She barely understood what he was talking about when he started spouting off.  She understood bits and pieces – she definitely understood when he was talking about ‘la robe’ and how fast it could be removed.  “Not fast enough – and no… toothbrushes?” she wasn’t one hundred percent on that being what he said, but she tried… for whatever it was worth.  Anything she remembered how to say, unfortunately, would not help them get out of the flat faster. 

“You get the bottles of wine, yes?” she started to tug him toward the living room where the bottles sat on the counter in a bag.  Winks hopped off the bed and followed along.  He would not be coming to the party, however.  The smallest Malkins could not be trusted.  Cora broke away to grab a handful of floo powder and waited for him to come back to her side so they could go. 

He frowned a little. “That’s my favorite holiday jumper.” Even if he didn’t necessarily like heels or dresses, he would like Cora in them, because Cora liked them. That seemed a fair analogy. Especially if he kept it in his head where it was safe. The promise of losing things later, however, followed with a suggestive wink had his brain switching gears altogether. Or... sliding back onto the path he couldn’t help avoid with Cora.

She could make his stomach twist and turn in ways that he knew were hazardous for his health. He swallowed hard and gave her a half smile. He knew that she knew the answer. Which was why Thomas wasn’t going to give in and answer it for her.

Truth be told, he was a bit concerned about her entire family being together in one place with him there. Thomas may have been praying for plenty of wine. That was one way to open him up. The problem, at that point, would be getting him to shut up. Plus his accent would get too thick... people might not follow his half French, half English slurs.

A toothy grin responded to her perplexity. She was learning. Some of his family expected certain things out of those who the family member chose to have as their significant other. One of those things was the ability to hold a conversation without switching tongues.

“Oh, sure.” Not that he was much stronger than Cora. Still, Thomas picked up the bag with a soft grunt, gently holding it by his side as the bottles clinked and clanked. Once he was content that the wine was safe and sound, he walked back over and took her hand, attempting to ignore his clammy palm. He looked at her, down at the cat, back at her, away, and finally leaned in for a quick peck on the side of her forehead. He was regretting it all, now. “Ready when you are.”

“You can keep it,” Cora sighed – resigned to the fact that she couldn’t’ resist the pout, “but not in public.”  It was the best compromise she could fashion.  He got to keep the hideous jumper and she got to be happy with how he presented himself.  Cora adored the way he looked – from the top of his very auburn head to the bottom of his pale feet (feet were always oddly white weren’t they?).   He just needed to… spruce up the packaging a bit! 

Since that was how they met, she knew he had a secret fashion person under there.  She was there to help bring it out, amongst other things.  She also wanted to make sure that her family liked him, and though she and her grandmother were the only ones in the fashion industry, that didn’t stop the other family members from caring.  Personal appearance was important to most of them, as shallow as that could be.  She’d think he was handsome regardless.   

Her eyes followed him as he went to the counter and she smiled fondly.   “Thank you,” she held her free hand out for his return and weaved their fingers together.  She hardly even noticed his hands sweating anymore. 

She giggled when he pressed his lips to the side of her head and Cora gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s going to be fun,” she assured him – and herself-  before throwing the floo powder into the fireplace, announcing her grandmother’s house.  It was sort of neutral territory, and a second later, she was tugging him into the green flames. 

As opposed to her own messy, but softly decorated flat, going into her Gran’s townhouse was something different.  The floo fireplace was in the guest parlor – which was still pretty formal.  There were little Christmas trinkets and things everywhere.  A reindeer on the mantle grunted and… did Reindeer bray or whinny or what? – at them.  Cora coughed into her hand and shook her head.  After the reindeer, it was a little awkwardly silent.  By a little... it was a lot.   

The heads of each family member turned toward them, but did not move from the other end of the room around the tree that was glittering with whatever charms had been put on it.  In a chair  that clearly did not come with the room, nose deep in a comic book was Tristan, obviously over this whole thing already.  Her mother and her brother Oliver as well as his wife, Beatrice, were all on the couch while her father and grandmother occupied the two arm chairs.  Ornaments bobbed and darted around the tree and the small children that were eyeing the presents beneath it.  Even though Farrah and Pace were old enough to understand no touching, the ornaments dodged Lydia’s chubby and curious fingers. In spite of any awkwardness, Cora immediately put on the smile and put out the arm that was not still holding Thomas’ hand.  “Hullo, everyone!” she greeted with enthusiasm, “This is Thomas," she motioned to the man beside her and then swept her hand down to the bag, "and we brought wine!” 

If he wore it out in public where she didn’t see, then it wasn’t as if he was going against what she asked (stated?), right? She wouldn’t be any the wiser, and he could still enjoy his jumper. Thomas was wise enough to keep the idea to himself, however, and merely averted his gaze as if to swallow her proclamation.

Fun might have been an overstatement. Thomas was willing to try, however, and hoped the glass of wine he’d had while she did her makeup would help his nerves. For a split second, he stared at the fireplace, considering stepping back out of the floo’s way. Instead, however, he gripped her hand and stepped forward, straightening himself up for the ride.

He stumbled slightly from their trip through the fireplace. He pulled his hand from hers and set to dusting his hair and shoulders off. “Here, I’ll-” He started to dust her backside off, open palm moving down to her rather wonderful arse, before he realized how tense and quiet things were.

Cora’s sudden greeting brought Thomas right back up, hand going right back to hers, as if he was a terrified toddler being shuttled to a new babysitter. He grinned awkwardly before lifting the bag, bottles clinking softly together. “Bonjour! Joyeux Noël.” Thomas cleared his throat and pulled his hand from Cora’s, stepping forward. “It’s a pleasure to meet more of Coralie’s family.”

That wine was sounding more and more appetizing. “Beautiful tree, Madame Malkin. And, uh, home, of course. What I’ve seen.” His free hand shifted to the one holding the bag, finding a hold on the handles before glancing to Cora as if to silently beg for help. His cheeks were already full of holiday cheer, practically glowing in the awkward no-man's land.

The portrait above the huffing reindeer finally decided to chime in with disapproving huffs and puffs.  Thankfully though, It wasn’t nearly as annoying as the one Cora had currently hung in the hallway.  She had revolted at being shoved in the closet, apparently, and found at least in the hallway she could be in view of the doorway to see all visitors (not that there were many outside of Thomas) and she was also safe from a view of the living room or her bedroom.  Cora liked to think of it as a game: just how ruffled could they make her?

It appeared they did a stellar job with her family.

Cora and Thomas were truly the king and queen of great entrances.  Though she held very little embarrassment, she looked over at Thomas and felt immediate guilt: he was so red and trying so hard.  She gave his hand another squeeze and smiled with assurance at him, even if Madame Malkin only lifted her chin to nod.  “I agree!” she chirped enthusiastically, “stunning job as always!”  At this, the corners of the matriarch’s mouth twitched. 

Thankfully, the first person to really get up was her father.  Cora hadn’t ever really been close with her parents, she preferred the company of her grandmother and they were always busy with the boys, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love them.  She liked her dad more though – he shared her knowledge of sewing.  Their mother was woefully inadequate in that area. 

He was short, like her, and while he was not sporting a beard currently, there was evidence that it would be growing in quite soon.  “My girl!” he embraced her, freeing her hand from Thomas’ for a moment.  Cora hugged back with vigor and squeaked as he lifted her off the ground.  When he put her down, Cora had to rearrange herself a little bit, but she was flush with the warmth of the greeting and her father moved his attention to Thomas.[1]

Cora sneaked behind him to grab the wine bag out of his hand and moved it to the little pushcart of liquors.  Notably, only one glass was gone and she looked around the room: as she figured, with her grandmother.  She was hopeless at identifying just what was in the glass.  “Did you bring presents?” Farrah was now interested and trotted over to the bag, little fingers ready to dig in. 

Beatrice, for all the things that Cora didn’t necessarily like about her, at least piped into make things less awkward.  “Presents aren’t for a while yet, darling.”  The little girl’s shoulders dropped and she looked back to her brother.  “No luck.” 

She had to laugh.  As weird as kids were, that was funny.  “Does anyone else want some wine?  Mum? Beatrice?” she raised her eyebrows as she pulled the bottle of white out of the bag – it would be a good start and the one her family would be most comfortable to begin with.  There was something sneakily innocent about white wine. 

Which turned out to be just what she needed as the two other women agreed to have some and Cora made sure to pour four glasses.  She was sure when her father was done with him, Thomas would want a glass… especially because Oliver[2] had decided to join whatever was going on with the boys in the corner. 

The divide was created swiftly.  Cora glanced over, hoping Thomas fared well.   

Levitating the glasses over to her sister-in-law and mother, her grandmother finally spoke up as Cora lifted the glass.  “That is new,” she lifted her glass and gestured to the sparkling dress that Cora had on.  Taking a sip of her drink, Cora nodded and smiled before doing a little turn.  “Like it?”

“Shiiiiiiiiiiny,” Pace commented with wide eyes and Cora laughed before taking a sip of her wine. 

“Very,” she winked at the little boy and found herself in one of the vacated seats – apparently the conversation turned back to Lydia and her new favorite word: no.  Cora rested her glass near her lips.  She had very little to add to this conversation.  At least she had wine.   

1.	Cora's dad is pretty normal, feel free to NPC this.
2.	Oliver thinks he's tough.  Really he's 31, looks like he's 15 and has three kids and a blah job at the ministry.  Again, feel free to NPC him

Thomas knew a thing or two about over-the-top decorations. His family seemed so inclined, growing up. He thought the tree done up was just plenty. No one needed five nativity scenes. No one. But he could remark at how well someone else chose to decorate, even if it was a little too in-your-face.

He was trying hard to remember names as he looked from one person to the next. The older gentleman who stood up was - yes, after confirming he looked like the oldest one in the room, Thomas concluded he had to be Cora’s father. Or a brother who had gotten into the age potions. He felt his cheeks bunch up of their own accord as he gave Cora’s dad as friendly a smile as possible, offering his hand (after wiping it off quickly on his trousers) to the slightly shorter man. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The feeling of weightlessness in his hand nearly unbalanced him, but Thomas’ head whipped around and his smile fell into a more natural curve when he saw Cora. Her dad said something that he didn’t catch, and Thomas had to turn his attention back and stumble around the conversation quickly. Like a newborn fawn trying to stand on its legs and walk. “I-I’m sorry?”

When the question was repeated, Thomas raised eyebrows and quickly responded with an “Oh, oh right.” He cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand while the other dug into his trouser pocket. “I’m a... wandmaker. I work with my Uncle at his shop. Vaillancourt Wands.” After a few moments of talking about his work and what it entailed, Thomas felt a little more relaxed, allowing his hands to make their appearance again. “I can, uh, tell you what your wand is made of and... what it pairs well with.”

“You’re like a wand connoisseur!” Thomas blinked at the newcomer, giving Oliver a rather friendly smile, considering how he’d only just met these people. “Yes, I suppose you could-” Thomas was interrupted with a wand suddenly in his face, handle first. “Oh, right.” He accepted the wand and gingerly handled it. “Ollivander design, of course. He’s brilliant, really.” His smile softened as he turned the wand over, hand running down the shaft. “Unicorn tail hair; you can tell because it pulls so much towards you. Very strong bond, and it works consistently well spell after spell.”

It wasn’t quite as temperamental as phoenix feathers or thestral tail hairs. One of his side projects, that Thomas had been focusing a lot of extra energy on (when he wasn’t overwhelmed by Cora, of course) was the different properties to a thestral tail hair. He knew, however, that getting into that sort of conversation wasn’t always so easy amongst those who didn’t care about wand cores. “The core pairs well with the hazel wood; while the unicorn hair helps with consistency, the hazel properties are quite sensitive. You probably know to be careful with handling your wand when upset or angry.”

The snicker made him look up, glancing between the two; her dad looked horrified, somewhat, while the brother seemed rather pleased. “But it’s a wand that will stay with you forever. Like a lifetime friend that won’t listen to anyone else.” He handed it back with a hopeful smile. Cora’s father accepted it with a slight frown before nudging his son. “Go on, then, let’s see what fickle wand you have, chap.”

Thomas accepted the wand from the smug wizard, frowning as he stared down at it. “It’s your second wand...” That produced less laughter and a suddenly serious look from Oliver. “Unicorn tail hair, like your father, but...” He bent the shaft slightly, a few sparks emitting from the tip. “You could work divination with this wand. Not only the bendable, smooth shaft, but the knobby handle... silver maple stands out very nicely.” When he looked up to hand the wand back, handle first, he was met with two slack-jawed men.

“I mean, if you’re interested in... divination at all. I think I’m going to grab a glass of wine, pardon me.” Thomas didn’t run, not exactly, but he did walk quickly towards Cora and the bottles. He accepted a glass and tried to handle his thirst with a large gulp.

Cora’s attention wandered from the women’s conversation.  She didn’t really care much about the different ways to mash peas to make them more appealing for little people.  It was sort of a far off concern and her opinion, as it turned out, was hardly important to anyone in the group as she had no experience with mashing peas.  Apparently it was not helpful to point out that peas could never be made to be appealing anyhow, whatever form they were put in front of any size person. 

So, before she knew it half of her wine was gone and her cheeks were rosy. 

Plus, she was sure something was going on in the corner because wands were coming out and oh… they were definitely making Thomas check them out.  It would probably be illuminating for him – as far as the men in the family were concerned.  Pushing herself up from the ottoman where she had perched, Cora was going to top off her glass… It’d make peas much more interesting. 

Thomas was quickly by her side – Oliver and her dad were whispering to each other, handling their wands with curious eyes.  Distracted.  Smiling at him, Cora reached to pat his forearm.  “You are fantastic,” she whispered to him.  “I hope they aren’t giving you a hard time.”  She took another sip of wine and giggled as Thomas gulped. 

It appeared Oliver was going to come over again.  Whatever had piqued his interest was now going to drive him for the rest of forever,  But oh, blessedly – like it was a miracle, far off in the distance, Cora heard a ring.  Like a beacon.  “Is that the timer?” Cora lifted her eyes and glanced around the room.   It looked like her mum and sister-in-law were going to get up. 

“Oh, you don’t have to move!” Cora announced, “Thomas and I will get everything.”  Her warm smile must have placated them because she was able to loop their arms together and tug him toward the kitchen.  The din of noise from the living room only seemed to get louder – something must have happened with one of the children, and Cora was even happier to get out of the cramped space. 

Through the doorway and down a corridor, the older kitchen was definitely a relic of its time.  Cora put her glass on the counter and removed her wand from her bag.  She flicked the timer off, plus opened the oven up to peek in.  Bending over the shelf, she frowned: it needed at least ten more minutes.  Closing it up again, the old thing wasn’t always reliable.   She turned one of the knobs on the oven, assuming it was the time as she looked away to plan her next move.

Cora moved back to the counter with her glass and leaned against it, crossing one leg over the other.  “Did you make a good impression?”

Thomas raised an unsure eyebrow in her direction, in obvious disagreement with her observation. “No, they were just... wanting to see if I knew wands, I think.” He could talk about his work all day long, that was no problem. The real problem, in his opinion, was how much of his work was still unknown! He had already explained many of his theories and opinions to his girlfriend, bouncing off ideas as he doodled in a work book.

“Timer?” He glanced around, confused. Thomas did hear something... but it looked like her brother was coming over. Didn’t she want to... “But, your broth-” Her voice stopped his obvious explanation. His face showed that he didn’t realize he was going to help out. “We wiiill!” His tone, which at first started as a question, turned to resolution after seeing the look on her face. The tug turned him around quickly, nearly tripping over his own two feet before Thomas allowed her to lead him away.

“I thought you wanted me to mingle with your family?” He lowered his voice as they exited, obviously a little confused. Not that he was going to say no to getting out of that room, not exactly. And he quickly explained that as they moved into the corridor.

His eyes couldn’t help themselves when she bent over to peak into the oven. Thomas made quick work of his wine while watching. The empty glass soon joined hers on the counter top, glancing self consciously over his shoulder as he rearranged. Her voice brought his attention back, and Thomas swallowed, grinning.

“I don’t know, we talked about wands. Maybe after another couple glasses, I’ll make an even better impression!” He reached out and took her hand. “I’m not sure what else to talk about, though. There are only so many wands out there, you know?” Thomas glanced around. “There aren’t any relatives floating around empty paintings in here, are there?” Once he had his confirmation, he leaned in for a kiss.

“I want to give you your Christmas present.” Thomas was practically beaming.

Giving his arm a squeeze, Cora looked over her shoulder, “Of course I do,” she wanted to soothe any anxiety that existed.  It wasn’t that Cora didn’t want him to interact with her family – quite the contrary!  Currently, she didn’t want to be mingling with them when they were determined to be boring.  Plus, she wanted to see if Oliver was being kind and gauge his reactions to them.  It was important to her, at the very least, they got along.  Her grandmother would keep her opinions that she was distracted, but she never said Thomas a bad person. 

Partially because he wasn’t a bad person at all.  He was much nicer (an understatement to be sure) than some of the other boyfriends she’d brought home.  It was refreshing.  Probably for everyone involved. 

She was just glad for the little break (that did not bode well, they probably hadn’t been there for more than fifteen minutes and she already needed a break).  It was just nice to be alone.  Cora was not the biggest fan of sharing his attention. “Did you comment on how short Oliver’s is?” she grinned. 

It was a soft spot for her brother, but every wand was different – nothing about the wizard’s value.  “Because if you hadn’t covered that territory,” she took his hand when he offered and smiled, biting the inside of her lip, “I recommend it next.  Or, if you really want to win my father over ask him about the oily goblins who are hoarding our money.” 

The silly suggestions aside, Cora ducked her head and laughed when he asked about relatives.  “Relatives in the kitchen? With the help?” Cora asked with mock incredulity, leaning her head back so she could enjoy the secret kiss.    Her arms slid around his waist, resting below his belt.  It allowed her to pull him closer and dig nails just a little bit harder, flexing out lower leg to rub her foot on his calf. 

She pursed her lip at his comment about Christmas presents and she narrowed her eyes.  “We’ve got a week until then,” she informed him, and then looked at him with a sly smirk, “plus, I don’t think this kitchen is the place.  Unless you've decided you like potential for an audience with your gift,”  She punctuated her point by leaning up to kiss him again.  Cora wasn't the type to waste an opportunity and they might as well take advantage of the bit of alone time. 

Thomas avoided spending more time than he needed to with his family. But her family seemed to be very important to Cora, and so Thomas was willing to look past his introvert desires to at least play nice. Even if that meant that his stomach was churning worse than the Mekong. He was just pleased his voice hadn’t broken, or that words hadn’t stuttered past his teeth.

His hope was that the continued intake of wine would help him. No, not hope. Thomas knew that was one way to loosen him up. And he knew Cora knew that about him too. Not that alcohol wasn’t like that for just about everyone.

Even in his head he was babbling.

At first he didn’t realize what she was getting at. By the time he did, eyes had widened in disbelief. “No!” The volume of his voice startled him, and he quickly shut up as he blushed. “How would I even know - how would you - You can’t compare the size of their wand to their actual... wand!” It was just like shoe size, it was like comparing apples to showers.

None of those topics were appealing to the nervous man. Goblins and money were not appropriate first meet conversations. Unless, of course, that was his job. But it wasn’t.

Thomas loved when her hands wandered. And it definitely took his mind off where they were and what they were doing. Thomas pressed forward against her involuntarily, as if he couldn’t stop himself. She looked so amazing.

His mouth opened for a response, but he closed it just as quickly, considering it. “I don’t think an audience - wait, audience?” His head turned quickly around, glancing to the different areas of the kitchen. Once he was sure no one was there, he tapped his finger against her collarbone, a small smirk slipping out despite his attempt to hold a disapproving look. “That wasn’t very nice.” Thomas leaned in for another kiss, this time letting it last a while longer, pressing up against her. He pulled away, breathless. "We should, uh, check on... the oven."