It had, by all accounts, been an eventful… what was it – fifteen hours?  After having made plans with Cepheus the previous week to go out for a ride, she had actually found herself looking forward to it.  With everything that had been happening, it was nice to have a friend like Cepheus.  She appreciated his sense of humor about everything, the Witch Weekly article especially and it just solidified that she had wasted a long time resenting him and their parents wishes to see them together instead of embracing their mutual dissatisfaction with the desired outcome. 

Maybe in another time or place it would have been less horrible, but given their current circumstances (and a strikingly similar interest) it wasn’t meant to be.  Neither set of elders would hear it though.  So, it was Prim’s absolute directive to take advantage.  She’d even told them she was going for a ride with Cepheus ahead of time!  It was a perfect cover. 

She’d written to Grigory in the evening.  By now he was very familiar with her very tall windows (Primrose could not have been more grateful her bedroom was on the ground floor), and when she was sure the coast was clear all she had to do was send the word and wait, leaving her windows open in the meantime.  The plan was a success. 

Granted, it was rather difficult to pull off – her mother would surely notice if a sound proofing charm was cast (highly sensitive to changes in the house – Prim figured it was years of maternal paranoia) so they each did their best to stay quiet, even if that meant muffling any desire to cry out in a pillow or shoulder – whatever was closer at a given moment.  However, as the evening hours wore on, the heat and rush settled into comfort.  Prim couldn’t help herself as she sleepily wrapped her arms around him and murmured, “stay.” 

There appeared to be no need to ask twice. 

Prim woke up first, still wrapped in his strong arms – the earliest rays of sun peeking in through the sheer curtains and casting long shadows over the furniture in the room.  Even if it was still dark, she could see his face, the curve of his jaw now relaxed, his usually red nose lacking color in the early morning hours, his full lips parted so she could feel each of his even breaths on her face.  Prim took the opportunity and kissed him, soft at first before her hands dipped under the covers, hoping to coax him awake.  There really was no better way to wake up. 

Unfortunately, even the lazy kissing that accompanied the rolling aftershocks of a decidedly perfect morning could not hold reality at bay for long.  Prim had to get up.  The horses needed tending to, exertion left her hungry and she could imagine Grigory felt the same.  Sliding from between the sheets, she managed to summon Gingy (the only coconspirator they had in the house) and request breakfast (the second thing to be enjoyed in bed that morning) as well as a guard for any possible intrusion. 

Without those fears, the rest of the morning seemed normal and time passed quickly.  Notably, the process of putting on her riding gear was quite the only thing that seemed to go slowly, especially when the desire to put on clothes was thwarted at every turn.  But, they managed to overcome the obstacle.  When it finally came time to emerge from her room, Prim held his face in her hands and pressed a firm kiss to his lips before leaning her forehead against his, “You go out the window, I’ll walk out the front.  Meet you in the barn?” They kissed once more before Prim slipped through the door and toward the front. 

Passing by her parents, already away and fresh for the day, it was like lumos was cast from behind both of their eyes at the same time.  Immediately, the questions started to flow: Was that today?!  What time was he coming over?  What was the plan?  Did she need them to get Gingy to plan a lunch? It was all a barrage that if Prim was not already alert and awake she’d have been overwhelmed.  It took more than questions for that. 

It took their insistence to come out to the barn with her.  Prim had no good excuse.  Her mind raced, but it was futile.  She trudged, her parents in tow and just hoped for a miracle of some sort.  At the very least, she’d thought of an excuse to explain his presence.  Cricket was doing well, but always needed to check progress.  Her father couldn’t even protest. 

”Gonchar!” he greeted with enthusiasm, completely blind to what had actually happened in his home the evening before or the nature of the beast handler’s relationship with his eldest daughter, and assumed a conversation with him while her mother looked exceptionally out of place.  She was like Marigold: horses were not her thing. 

It made it easy to leave her be and attend to the administration of the barn.  She had warned them she would be boring. It was even truer when she couldn’t steal kisses in between feeding the horses.  She had thought she was far beyond the point of her parents ruining everything – that was much more Hattie’s speed – but at this moment, she felt proven wrong: they could most certainly ruin anything. 

Thankfully, she didn’t need to talk to them, what with her work.  It made for short responses and moments where they just consulted one another – or worse – her father talked to Grigory about something… Prim tried not to listen.  It was easy enough to avoid – and thankfully, it was definitely early afternoon, so she could start tacking the horses as well – more distractions! 

Hopefully, they’d be satisfied as soon as Cepheus arrived.  As Prim passed through the barn toward the cross ties for gromming with Morris in tow, she managed to catch Grigory’s eye and mouth “Sorry!” as clearly as she could before her parents noticed and offered him an apologetic smile.  “Later?”

With a soft, sleepy sound caught somewhere between a groan and a sigh, Grigory stirred. His forehead wrinkled; he snuffled into the pillow. The kisses Prim had pressed to his mouth were so light that they had felt like a dream – had, in fact, been mistaken for one.

It wasn’t the first time he slept over; that was inevitable, once they moved things out of her father’s office and into her bedroom. He was, like most people, conditioned to sleep in one. But it wasn’t often when he did, either, and as such the effect had yet to wear off; once they were done he was out within seconds, dragged under by need as much as want. It took surer hands to wake him. And when they did…

He was on top of her before he had even opened his eyes. Breakfast soon followed, then dressing, but it was both that got him reaching out, tugging at her from behind, kissing her shoulder, her neck. The former nearly ended in a puddle of juice and crumbs – the latter in discarded clothing and a heart fit to burst.

It took another look from her to make sure that his shirt was all properly buttoned up. Then, it was just a matter of resting his forehead against hers and nodding.

It was very, very important that he didn’t look back.

The trip to the barn was a swift one—not because it was easy, but because the windows of Woolfolk Manor were the kind that even a casual glance would make someone like him difficult to hide. Still, Grigory appreciated the distraction it offered; reaching the stables meant he was safe, but it also meant that his mind was now free to wander. Thoughts about lazy morning kisses and handfed bites only led to ones about lunch—how Prim might be like outside, in a setting that was neither home nor the Ministry. He just wasn’t sure if it was allowed. On one hand, he liked her, so it was only natural; on the other, they hadn’t really talked about what they were, aside from reaching a tacit understanding that it was a secret until further notice.

This wasn’t the first time he had done this, or even the second. But his last two relationships had been very public (one more so than the other), and that morning only reminded him how out of practice he was at the whole thing… if that was even the issue at all. Being with Prim felt both familiar and unlike anything he had ever done with anyone else.

At least the stables had Cricket. Foals were distinctly less complicated than people. When Prim still didn’t show, Grigory let himself into the stall.

Finding himself swept up in a conversation with Calvin wasn’t what the tall Russian had been expecting when she finally did, but he rolled with it; doing so made it easier to ignore her, and though he didn’t want to, it was for the best while both parents were present. Imogen in particular was at least a little terrifying, and he wasn’t sure how much of it came from being a former obliviator and how much of it came from being a mother.

Only a flicker of his gaze gave away the subtle shift in his attention, but Grigory took refuge in the fact that Prim was gorgeous and he was only human; riding gear was very flattering, and it fitted her like a second skin. Here, like this, she was in her element.

“Khimori faster, but not good for Cup,” he reassured Calvin over folded arms. “They best without rider. Bones strong, but too – too small for carry. Even with big one, rider must be very tiny.”

He cracked the older wizard a cheeky grin. “Part pixie, maybe.”

It was strange to feel a pang of jealousy in her chest over her father.   But, there it was burning white hot as she glanced over and saw Grigory grinning at him, engaged in conversation.  This was their space, and the fact that her parents were intruding in it… and on top of that her father was monopolizing his time… it made Prim’s cheeks burn as she turned around the corner with Morris. 

She still caught sections of their conversation, though.  Her father’s booming voice was difficult to miss in between the heavy breaths of the other horses still in their stalls and the occasional nicker or whinny.  “A good thing for Cricket, eh?” she heard Calvin laugh and Prim shook her head, brush in hand quickly sweeping down Morris’ back.  “You know,” she heard him add, “my –our,” she could practically hear her mother glare at him, ”oldest, Primrose, you’ve met her!  Yes, well – she almost had a future in it…” his voice dropped.  Ugh.

Primrose hated when he talked about her.  This time for so many more reasons than could possibly be enumerated at present.  Ducking her head, she figured it was probably him talking about how she’d been too tall – she wasn’t so much excited by the winged events as she was by groundwork, and as a result, had grown beyond expectation for that path.  He was probably talking about that. 

Lost in the thought of how tall she was and how it, blessedly, didn’t matter, Prim dragged the coarse brush over Morris’ flank.  She didn’t hear the footsteps at all when her mother approached, but only turned her head when she heard her voice.  ”Did you know Mr. Gonchar,” his named sounded funny on her tongue, unnatural, ”was going to be here this morning?”

It wasn’t a question. 

Imogen knew she knew.  Prim could see it in her eyes.  Thus, she focused harder on her task at hand: a spot of dirt on Morris’ backend.  She could be casual, of course she could.  Clearing her throat, “Oh, yes,” she shrugged, “it was in the ledger.”  It went unspoken: that I keep and maintain.

”Was it?” Imogen asked, sounding almost too disinterested.  If it wasn’t pulled back into a tight ponytail, her hair would have stood on end.  Her mother was a truly terrifying women, ”Ah well, I must have missed it.”  Primrose, for the life of her, prayed that was true.  ”When is Cepheus due to arrive?”

Prim pursed her lips and stopped, suddenly.  The brush stilled against his brown coat and Prim dug into her pocket and pulled out her pocket watch.  Flicking open the rose gold, intricate covering, she was surprised how much time had passed.  “Oh, I suspect within the half hour,” she appraised, “he isn’t the type to be late.” 

”You never know,” her mother countered quickly, ”people surprise you.” Indeed, Prim thought uncomfortably and just shifted the watch back to her pocket and resumed brushing. 

”Gen!” Calvin’s voice came into sharp focus, ”Gen, come on, dear.  I think I hear the door! Leave them alone, why don’t we?”   Prim assumed the goodbyes were exchanged, but only heard a pulsing static as her mother’s hand was like electricity on her shoulder.  She squeezed and Prim was certain she’d never hear again.  At least until she let go and it was like the world readjusted itself.  If Prim didn’t know better… (maybe she didn’t) she would have sworn her mother was trying to use legilimency. 

At least, if Cepheus was here they’d make quick work of getting themselves out.  And if he wasn’t, well… they were still gone and Grigory was here.  She supposed she’d just wait until whichever voice announced itself! 

“Hello?” Cepheus called out into the barn, gently closing the door and looking about himself, ears pricked for the sound of movement over and above the horses within. His fingertips tugged at the grey tweed riding jacket that still just about fitted. He'd last worn when he was seventeen, a last gymkhana at Godric’s Hollow on a neighbour’s pony before it had been time to take leave. He wished it covered more of his backside though, which wasn’t quite as lithe as it had been back then. Skin-tight beige wasn’t flattering to anyone but those with legs of a dancer, and an arse like two eggs in a handkerchief. Speaking of which…

“Morris I presume?” Cepheus greeted, averting his eyes from Big G to Primrose. He was not sure who else was in the barn, playing it safe by referring to the bay horse, resting its hind leg while Primrose groomed. It looked far too docile to be anything Primrose would ride, and besides, he had seen photographs of her on horses on more than one occasion - there were several in the house proudly pointed out by the Woolfolks at Christmas.

“G” Ceph greeted with a nod and a knowing smile, raising his eyebrows. He was just glad they were both decent, though it was good to be amongst friends. His long riding boots had seen better days, but didn’t look quite so bad since he’d polished them before setting out.

“So…” Ceph addressed them both in a low voice, “I can see who you’re riding, but what about this afternoon?” He shot Grigory a grin and approached Prim and Morris. “You’re looking well.” Better than he probably did, Thursday’s shellshocked drinking with his sister over the week’s events had required more than a couple of doses of hangover potion.

All thoughts of noble resolve fled when Grigory's flew toward Prim, brows high in surprise – too much, perhaps, for someone who was supposed to be only a passing acquaintance.

Then, features softened in sympathy. He knew all about almost’s.

He looked away.

“She do important work now,” he said soothingly, and as he did – though he didn’t mean to – it came out as much for Prim as it was for Calvin, if not more. He might not agree with her views, from what he’d gathered, but what she did was important regardless. Grigory knew that much. “You are proud, yes?” He leveled Calvin his best hearty – innocent – smile.

“Oh yes, very important,” Calvin replied, nodding as he hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “She is determined, I will give you that, makes Imogen and I very proud.”

Grigory smiled even more brightly. He leaned in, as though he were imparting a secret. “My sister is same,” he confided. “Our parents wish she work for our government – she very smart, top of class–” His chest puffed up a little bit. “But she have other plans – she want quidditch instead. Like brothers.” The smile faded slightly, turning wistful.

Fortunately he did not have long to dwell on it; with happy abruptness Calvin perked up, alerting them all of Cepheus’ impending arrival. Grigory watched him go with old newfound amusement—until he caught sight of Prim and Imogen.

It was only a second – perhaps even less – but he could not help but get the feeling that he had missed something very important, especially when he got a better look at the one on Prim’s face. His smile disappeared under concern. Shooting Imogen a look just as the doors slid shut behind her, he ventured a step towards the stall. “Prim? You okay?”

But before he could so much as push his way inside, Cepheus appeared, looking his trim, neat self in riding clothes of his own—though the beast handler couldn’t help but notice that the Division Head was looking a bit peaky. Probably because of his parents, Grigory surmised. He was too nice to point that out, however. “Ceph!” he beamed.

And then broke out into a short but delighted laugh. The other wizard was one of the only two people outside of Grigory and Prim who knew about Grigory and Prim, and for all that Prim’s parents pushed him and Prim together (making him something of a direct roadblock to Grigory’s half-formed, barely acknowledged desires), the Russian found himself glad for it. Once the man was close enough, Grigory drew him into a hug; it ended in a slight shake and a similarly hearty slap on the back. “Because we prettiest,” he said. “Maybe you too, with more borscht.” He winked at Prim before finally releasing Cepheus.

The departure of her parents was a relief, to be certain.  Calvin and Imogen filled the space in the barn with their personalities and overwhelmed everything.  It was like being suffocated, enveloped in their agenda and narrative of what was going on when they were so wrong.   Well, Calvin was wrong.  She wasn’t sure about her mother. She just… Primrose loved her, but she had a way about her.  It was unsettling and Prim didn’t like the anxiety she gave her, particularly in the barn. 

When Imogen came into her space, it wasn’t hers anymore.  She couldn’t breathe until she was gone and the second that happened, the air rushed to Prim’s lungs and the world opened up again.  She liked the little respite of a world that she didn’t have to lie in to be comfortable.  Though, it did beg to question, was she uncomfortable lying?  It hadn’t really struck her until now.   

This whole affair was turning into an active lie. Before, it had just been omission.  But the beast was growing and Prim didn’t want to consider… she shook her head and sucked on her bottom lip before she continued with Morris.  Still shaken, Prim looked up at the sound of Grigory’s voice and she smiled, tight lipped and less genuine than she might have wanted to look, “I’m fine.”  Another lie.  Even if she had tried to lie, she was certain he wouldn't believe her.

She didn’t have time to think on it (blessedly) when Cepheus arrived, decked out like any equestrian should be.  Perhaps not as updated in style as Prim’s own outfit, but it was definitely suitable – and a very nice effort.  She appreciated it.  A wide smile broke across her face, “Morris indeed,” she beamed, “Talk about looking well – you could ride in the Quadruple Wand[1].”  The horse shifted his weight, as though he knew he was being talked about and Primrose chuckled softly to herself. 

Though, her cheeks tinged pink when Cepheus pointed out the little, dirty fact that there was most assuredly more than one kind of riding that had happened.  “Naughty,” she chastised him, though without any of the umph an actual reprimand might have.  “This afternoon,” her voice became crisp again, lifting her chin to avoid the shame of being too embarrassed and staying red in the face, “Valentine will be carrying me and you – and Morris – will have to just try and keep up,” she wrinkled her nose at him and dropped the brush into the box near her feet before clasping her hands. 

The saddle pad and saddle were on the other side… Prim made quick work around Morris – not something she’d advise a novice to do and began to tack from the side. It gave Grigory a chance to sweep in to envelope Cepheus in a hug while Prim watched happily, hands making busy work of leather straps.  Despite the work, she did visibly grimace at the idea of borscht.  Grigory had cooked for her, that was true, but still… beets?  “If borscht is the measure of pretty, you are the belle of this barn,” she teased openly and shifted her stance to face the pair of them as the old gelding’s gear was secured.   “Hand me the bridle, would you?” she waved to Grigory as it hung off the peg and peered over Morris’ neck to address Cepheus.

“Please tell me they did not bombard you on their way out,” she looked at him sympathetically, “they insisted on coming down to see you.  I tried….” She shook her head and pursed her lips, “you know how they are."

1.	One of the oldest flying horse races in England, attended by any well to do individual interested in racing

Grigory’s bone-crushing hug was more than a little welcome, and he tried to return it, though it felt like he was hugging a tree. He was very lucky to have so many supportive friends and colleagues like Grigory. He’d not long said goodbye to his best mate, Nate and his daughter that morning[1] before getting ready to come out and ride. Nate had even returned poor Claude (albeit with a bit less fur). The friendly slap near knocked air out of his lungs, and made Ceph’s eyes bulge, only because he was so slight that Grigory’s usual manhandling propelled him further. It and G’s comments brought out a genuine laugh in the older wizard.

“Talk about looking well – you could ride in the Quadruple Wand.”
“What, these - I - I might have considered our potential audience…” Ceph admitted, waving away the compliment. “Thank you.” He gave Prim a self-conscious smile and nod of his head, blushing very gently.

“What about G? Is he driving a pair out five minutes after us?” Cepheus asked, positioning himself so he could look between one and the other. He doubted there was a beast who could happily carry Grigory’s size, not that the wizard was in any way overweight, more his height. “Or the hayloft later?” The Being Division Head folded his arms and lifted his eyebrows suggestively. “I’m teasing, and no,” he answered Prim, "by some small miracle I managed to avoid them - or perhaps I’m to meet the inquisition on our return.”

He watched Primrose efficiently tack up Morris, bit sliding into his mouth, ears smoothing through the headband before she fastened the throatlash at the correct slack. The horse obediently followed every direction, and the placid nature reassured Cepheus that he might actually be alright riding. After all, this was just a hack, not a gymkhana like his childhood days where the lightweight Gamp brother and sister would dive on and off friend’s ponies in the pursuit of rosettes. Morris looked the sort more at home with a little dressage, or perhaps jumping. Not quite on par with Valentine, but quite fine for him.

“I promise I won’t keep her from you long,” Cepheus assure Grigory. “What’s your cover for being here, anyway? The new arrival doing well?"

1.	Cat Burglar in the Making

At Cepheus’ teasing, Grigory laughed again, delighted by the older wizard’s cheek rather than embarrassed by it. Considering all the places he and Prim had sex in by now, the quip was not without merit.

Though a thing or two could be said about straw in uncomfortable places.

The reminder of Primeus’ most  invested supporters was enough to have that grin of amusement fade a little, but out of sympathy. With their relationship such a secret, Grigory was spared Imogen’s the Woolfolks’ scrutiny, and while he was confident in his ability to bear it, it was still nice that he didn’t have to. This way, the only people whose opinions about their relationship mattered, were their own. With the relationship still so new, so exciting, partly because of its nebulous boundaries, there was a delicate quality to it that left the Russian wizard as appreciative of the secrecy as Primrose was protective because of it.

And it was with that sentiment slowly burning away in the back of his mind that Grigory – after handing her said bridle – watched Primrose at work alongside with Cepheus, simply content—if, admittedly, for different reasons. There was a calm sort of confidence in her movements that came from being completely at home with her surroundings, and for Grigory (who had begun to find just about everything about her attractive), he found this very attractive.

     “Would you like to join us? Theseus would happily oblige.”

Grigory’s grin softened into a smile and shook his head. Cepheus’ assurance had a corner of his mouth curling up into a grin again before it dissolved into a soft huff of laughter. “Da.” Where meticulous English would have been rolled out for Calvin’s benefit, that small bit of Russian appeared instead, drawn by easy familiarity. “She not really need me – her mama do just fine by self – but she not even one month yet. Prim’s papa have big plans for her, so it still fine to see her.” To see Prim went unspoken, but in that stall it was palpable all the same. “Two, even three month okay, maybe.” By then they would have to think of a better cover, he knew. They both did, if they wanted to carry on as they were. But until then…

Grigory shrugged. They would cross that bridge when they got there.

Gaze lifting from Cepheus to Prim, he went over to her, cupping the horse’s chin briefly before reaching her side. Lightly he rested a hand at the small of her back. “Valentine ready?” he asked, ever helpful—voice lowering, unthinkingly, to a near-intimate level despite the innocence of his words. “Or should I do?”

It was no a common to see Primrose so heartfelt in a smile, but she was quite pleased that her flattery worked.  Cepheus was positively pink!  She had hardly ever seen him flustered in that way, except perhaps when they were very drunk[1] and even then, it hadn’t been on account of her praises that he’d turned a soft shade of red and stumbled over his words.  Wine could be blamed that. 

She looked to Grigory, thinking about which of the horses in her stable could carry him, and if she had a suitable saddle with long enough stirrups for Grigory’s impossibly long legs.  Rather than make answers for him, she tilted her head to the side and regarded him with a soft expression, “Would you like to join us? Theseus would happily oblige,” she referenced the Belgian[2] that their father had insisted on being his own ride – Calvin lacked the physical size for it, but Theseus was as level headed as Morris in many respects, and younger. 

Of course, the prospect of having all three of them out if her parents decided to ambush them after… that was troubling.  Almost as troubling as the suggestion of the hayloft.  It was Prim’s turn to blush!  Straw, however, was not a welcome addition to any of the activities Cepheus presumed would happen there (as they had already discovered).  She decided to maintain her dignity and not point that out. 

Besides, Grigory began talking about Cricket, and it gave her a moment to fiddle with the last of Morris’ tack: her guest’s steed was prepared.  “You underestimate my father,” Prim pointed out with a grin shared between the two men, “Cricket is his pride and joy – every one of his friends has been by to see her and if it were up to him you’ll be on call until she’s a yearling.”  That was, of course, not a problem for either of them.  Prim thought, maybe, if that continued to go well, and her father grew to really appreciate Grigory that would set the stage for their private relationship to become a public one.  It just needed to be the right time.  When they got there, they would know.  Until then, Prim was content to keep things between them… and Cepheus… and Irina. 

So much so that she didn’t even flinch as Grigory put his hand on her back and lowered his voice.  The pit of her stomach tightened and she felt warmth spreading across her cheeks.  It wasn’t even about anything and she had to clear her throat before she could talk.  “I’d appreciate if you could tack him – you know where my tack is,” Prim rose to her tiptoes and craned her neck in order to try and steal a kiss, which ended up being more of an under-chin peck than anything else. 

When she dropped back onto her heels, Prim gave his forearm a gentle squeeze.  The moment lingered, and as soon as she remembered Cepheus was still present, she cleared her throat again, resumed her formal posture.  Slipping the reigns off of Morris’ neck, she clicked her tongue and moved him forward, holding out the leather straps to Cepheus.  “Do you think you can get up on your own, or do you need the wooden box?” she teased and stood to the side.  “I’ll adjust your stirrups once you’re up." Waiting a beat, she then took the opportunity to ask, "how was your week, by the way?  Was your valentine's day terribly lonely without your lovely fiancee?" she paused, "though if my parents ask, we had a lovely dinner."

1.	Ruff Day
2.	Belgian

Cepheus averted his gaze as Prim and Grigory got close and forgot he was there. He was happy for them, it was no bother. Primrose was happier than he'd ever known her, and smiling more than he ever remembered. Grigory seemed more than happy too. The whole office was benefitting from the positive vibes resulting in the pair of them smittenly shagging their brains out.

He was almost glad to be given Morris' reins, so that he could be busy with something else if they carried on. He looped the end of the reins into his palm and smoothed his right hand down Morris' neck, patting firmly. Yes, they'd be alright. Morris looked steady enough to carry on trotting if a bludger hit him.

“Do you think you can get up on your own, or do you need the wooden box? I’ll adjust your stirrups once you’re up." Ceph gave a look at the height of the stirrup from the ground. He wasn't the tallest, but he was still lithe enough.
"How was your week, by the way?" Prim asked as Ceph flipped the reins back over Morris' head and gathered them at the withers with his left hand, lifting his left foot to the stirrup iron. She missed his furrowed brow as he turned his back, "Was your valentine's day terribly lonely without your lovely fiancee? Though if my parents ask, we had a lovely dinner."

One, two - up - still got it.

Perhaps not as graceful a landing as he'd intended, but up in the saddle all the same.
"Dinner? Right, er - valentines day was .. erm..." colour flushed to Ceph's face, "helped a couple of friends[1] out." He stood up in his stirrups, sitting back down. "I'll probably need to lengthen them in a bit once I get used to things again. You two covertly celebrated with dinner then?" He wasn't sure if Prim was purposefully glossing over the small matter of murderous parents[2], but he was glad for it.

"I should actually take you for dinner some day, properly. Not just as cover, you know." Ceph smiled gently down at Prim from aboard Morris.

1.	Outraged Public Decency
2.	Feb 16,Head of Mysteries Arrested for Murders

 Sly told me to go ahead and post first!

---

 Prim watched with amusement as Cepheus hoisted himself up into the saddle.  She resisted the urge to step forward and help him with the last leg of the jump, but he did it and then attended to her questions about his holiday.

It was honestly the first time in a very long time that Primrose enjoyed the holiday.  Usually, she holed up in her room and ate sweets, ignoring the fact that it was even Saint Valentine’s Day.  This time, however, not so much.  It sounded like Cepheus also had an eventful holiday!  “Helped some friends?” she asked skeptically, “I don’t know anyone who develops a flush if they’ve only done a friend a favor,” she practically purred, approaching to adjust his stirrups.

 Her fingers moved quickly as she undid the buckle and patted the back of Cepheus’ calf, “heels down,” she reprimanded with a bit of a smile before she lowered the stirrups to a comfortable length to ensure should they need to post he would have adequate space to do just that and not launch himself right out of his seat.  Morris shifted his weight as she did and Prim laid a firm pat on his flank before she crossed in front of him, scratching as his whiskers and patting his nose in a quick stop. 

“Oh you know, couple things,” she replied cryptically though the grin on her face was anything but.  She was not trying terribly hard to cover up the fact that she and Grigory were more than happy to spend the hours in such a way – after all, it was a celebration wasn’t it?  Besides, ever since this… whatever it was… had started, she found herself happier on the whole, and that was surprisingly refreshing. 

Whatever the case, it was a much more pleasant topic than anything else that was going on, at any rate.  She moved to the other side and started the same process with the other stirrup.  “I’d quite like that,” she replied excitedly.  “The last time though…” she laughed, “I could hardly wake up the next morning!” 

“I suggest, if we do make plans, we practice a bit more moderation,” she offered.  Primrose was not accustomed to hangovers, so when it had happened… oh, that was an unpleasant surprise.  “Please tell me you were no better off.” 

Ceph laughed gently at her couple things, the colour from his embarrassment of his unexpected valentine’s luck fading.
“Gosh, no, well, I don’t know exactly what you got up to after we parted at the Sword, but I’ve been swelling the coffers of hangover potion brewers this month. Sunday morning was worse - after the Prewett party, after two nights of it.” Ceph made a face at the thought of his head. He’d nobody to make him a cup of tea on a morning like that. Claude, his cat, failed to possess the necessary opposing thumbs, height and intelligence to do it.

“Moderation, of course. Only lady-like after all. Can’t have Grigory picking us both up off the floor.” Cepheus agreed, slipping Morris’ reins between the fingers of one hand while he fumbled to put on a pair of gloves. Much as he doubted Morris would yank the reins from his hands, it was February, and not exactly warm out there. “Though he is more than capable.” Grigory’s strength was such Ceph worried for his ribs when the Russian got excited and hugged him on a night out. However, he wouldn’t ever say no to one of those hugs. He wasn’t at all jealous of Prim. No. Yes.

Morris was still a fine horse, but entirely paled in comparison to Valentine, in Ceph’s opinion. The sound of hooves announced the arrival of Prim’s mount, and Ceph looked round, nudging Morris gently with his heels to move out of the way in the barn as Grigory led the horse into sight.

The only Woolfolk sister who seemed even the slightest bit capable of handling herself after a wild night out was Marigold.  Prim might have doubted it, but the select pictures in the magazines with Augustine Fortescue seemed to indicate that did, indeed, have acquaintances who tolerated her when alcohol was involved.  Granted, that was probably how anyone could tolerate Marigold. Perhaps she’d have to try it with a couple of glasses of wine at the next family dinner they were forced to share once or twice a week. 

“It’s always good to share wealth with people when they provide what sounds like a vital service,” she teased and stood back, observing all of the tack and making sure Cepheus was secure.  She wouldn’t want to have an unfortunate spill in the middle of a field.  And though she was certain her tack would be perfectly adjusted, she knew Grigory wouldn’t be around to pick Cepheus off of the ground and Prim wasn’t entirely capable of that, so better safe than sorry.  “We’ll keep any ventures on floors at a minimum, I think,” she smiled and turned at the sounds of hooves. 

Coming down the middle of the bar, Prim saw Grigory leading Valentine and though she was really smitten with him, Valentine was arguably her best friend.  The combination of the two of them just put the biggest smile on her face.  Rushing forward (though without the urgency that would scare Valentine), she grabbed his hand clasping the reigns and reached up to say thank you with a kiss.  His free arm slipped around her waist and while Prim giggled, Valentine snorted and stomped his front foot.  “Are you sure you can’t come out with us?” she asked with a half-hearted pout, knowing he had other commitments for the day. 

Grigory’s expression turned rueful. “Yes,”  he sighed. “Your parents think I’m here for Cricket - I’m here for Cricket. And I leave soon.”

But he gave her a squeeze, kissing her temple with easy affection. “You and Ceph have fun for me, yes?”[1]  Prim savored a final moment pressed against him with his lips to her forehead before they parted.  “We will,” she assured him, “I’ll owl you later,” she promised and disentangled her arm from his neck.  “Give Blue some sugar cubes before you go,” she added, playfully patting his upper chest. 

She felt Valentine butt his head against the side of her arm and her eyes turned toward him.  “You’ll get your later,” she informed him crisply before stepping back and moving the big horse out of the way.  “Bye,” she squeezed his hand one more time and moved to the side of Valentine in order to mount.  He said goodbye to her before a louder goodbye meant for their friend before he turned down the stable lane toward the birthing stall.[2]

Prim urged Valentine in the opposite direction and she sat, several hands higher than Ceph and Morris .  “Ready?” she beamed before giving him another nudge with her heel and heading toward the open barn doors toward the hilly land, dotted with riding paths and alcoves to explore.  “Which do you prefer: lake or field?”  Prim glanced over her shoulder to get some guidance on which paths they should take. 

1.	From Sly
2.	Grigory exits the thread!

Cepheus lowered his gaze in respect as Grigory and Primrose exchanged parting words, inaudible to their third party. They did indeed make a lovely couple, and Cepheus was entirely happy for them both. He just wished they were able to be more open about it. The shorter wizard entirely understood the difficulties having grown up knowing the Woolfolks.

Instead, Cepheus leaned down to check Morris’ girth for his own reference, even though Prim had checked it a moment ago. Horses could often blow out, knowing what came next. He straightened up just in time for Gonchar’s farewell, and raised his hand in return.
“Afternoon G,” Cepheus called to the departing giant, a gentle smile on his lips. He glanced to Primrose, ever a little sorry to be stealing time away between them.

His friend wasted no time before they set off.
“Ready?"
“Of course.”

The height difference reminded Cepheus of their dancing[1] at Christmas, Prim’s heels allowing her to tower over him. At least if Grigory took her for a turn, she’d be able to gaze up with a smile at him, and him down at her. Cepheus was smiling at the image in his own head without realising as they set off, and snapped-to when Prim asked his preference on route.

“Gosh, been a while since... lake?” When they were children, it had been more acceptable for Gamps to socialise with Prim and fellow sisters on the Woolfolk estate during the day, rather than moments confined to the house for distinctly adult functions. Morris obliged with steadfast mediocrity in comparison to the rather stunning Valentine who carried Primrose. Much as Valentine was a sight to behold, and undoubtedly worth the cost of hay and oats to keep, Cepheus did feel better for riding Morris. Not only did the horse match his stature, but also tolerated his lapsed riding skills. At that thought, Ceph sunk his weight down the back of his legs, lowering his heels in a self-conscious gesture.

“You two look very happy,” he called to Prim, nudging Morris with his heels to encourage him to lengthen his stride and keep up with Valentine (Prim had warned him after all), “how has it been, have your parents suspected, or am I growing a reputation as a lover to cover it up?” There was colour in Ceph’s cheeks as he suggested it. He’d never match Grigory, he figured, not that he would attempt to with Primrose. “I did mean it, earlier, about taking you for dinner. Obviously as friends, and I rue to take your attention from Grigory, but if it helps…” Gods knew they could both do with a bit of normality in their external personas of late with families. “Sorry, you maybe find it tiresome as a conversation topic from me, but I care about you both, in the least third-wheel way I can muster.”

1.	24th December, 2010 A Stake of Holly Through His Heart, Ceph was only 5ft 9, and tonight in her heels, Prim was taller than him. …. "Perhaps I need a pair of those myself." He gestured with his free hand in the vague direction of Prim's feet, glancing down to admire her heels.

Prim beamed.  “I couldn’t have picked better myself!”  Prim loved the winter lake.  There were patches of just barely there ice floating on the grey surface and even if the grass on the sides was brown like the drenched Earth it was perched upon, it was still beautiful.  The better part, of course, was it was remote. 

Though, it wasn’t preferred at the moment for the same reasons as some of her other favorite remote places on the estate.  She wasn’t trying to steal away hidden corners for clandestine meetings with Cepheus. 

Even if she were, she wasn’t entirely sure Calvin or Imogen would mind.  That was probably the strangest part of it all.  Her father was practically ready to put out a price on her head for her marriage at this point.  A Gamp boy wasn’t his last choice, that was for certain, and they were incorrigible. Christmas had practically put them over the edge.  How wrong they were. 

At least someone knew. 

Looking over at Cepheus, Prim blushed and ducked her chin while she looked away.  The assertion that she looked happy was different and it made her feel foolish.  It’d scarcely been long enough for anyone to make her happy whenever she heard his voice or saw his soft, lopsided smile.  Twisting the leather in her hands for a moment, Prim slowed Valentine to a gentle walk and waited for the gap between them to close.  “I don’t think it’s so much a reputation as a blind delusion on their part,” Prim laughed. 

They really wanted to have it happen.  But she sighed, getting over the urge to joke for a moment.  “My dad is none the wiser,” she admitted, “when it gets too quiet, sometimes he pretends to hear wedding bells,” she rolled her eyes as she nudged Valentine toward the left.  “My mum on the other hand…” her shoulders dropped and she let out a deep, exasperated breath.  “She was asking questions about Grigory being here earlier.  I swear, sometimes I wonder if she’s a secret legilimens – or maybe she’s taking my thoughts out in the middle of the night for a pensieve,” a shiver ran down her spine.  Her mother’s previous position did not make her the most trustworthy witch in the world.  She’d feel the same way about Amaryllis if it weren’t absolutely impossible for her to do anything dishonest at all. 

“But you’re not a third wheel,” she added genuinely.  They’d hardly been seeing one another long enough to even be two wheels to intrude upon.  “And I would love to go to dinner with you,” she said pointedly.  It made her a little nervous to think that Cepheus thought her attention was so fixated on one person that he’d be dragging her away… Was she being obsessive?  “You don’t think I’m spending too much time on this, do you?” she asked cautiously, glancing at him.  “I mean, it’s barely been two weeks.  Is this moving too fast?” 

Her heart beat hard in her chest.  Pangs of confusion, guilt, doubt, and panic all pushed adrenaline through her veins.  She gnawed on her lip as they breached the crest of a hill and headed down toward a thicket of trees that they needed to cross through before they got down to the lake.