Dec 31st 2002 (~2 hours until midnight)
Forrester Ancestral Manor, London

It had been a somewhat hectic winter break for James.  Everyone was wishing him well, and for once he appeared to be able to steal the spotlight from his older brother who had graduated a few years earlier.  It seemed he had attracted even more attention by being seen at a series of events on the pureblood social calendar with a wealthy and attractive witch, which his family thought was a good thing.  James got a complete refresher course on manners, acting like a gentlemen, and lying saying appropriate things to witches.  While James could understand their desire to consolidate power, he once again felt like he was being used.  Though he was having a good time eating the extravagant feasts and dancing with the pretty witch, James would have actually liked to be honest with her.  James could not really tell how (or if) this relationship would work, nor could he tell if they were just brought together by mutual suffering.  Since this was the last party they had to attend together for the year, James figured it was as good as time as any to test the waters.  The fact that his family would have killed him if he had to find a new date in the middle of “season of seven forks” also played a factor in that consideration.

Though James did enjoy spending time with the pretty witch, he would rather be flying.  Though that came as no surprise to any who knew him, he was about as happy as he could be while his feet were on the ground.  If he had to suffer through the season of seven forks, he might as well suffer through it with Melanthe on his arm.  Fortunately for James, the season of seven forks was about to end.  Somehow, he had managed to get through another one without sneaking off to play quidditch.  This was helped by the fact that Melanthe Grumman was his date for these events.  Wondering the best way to broach the subject without having to deal with the maddening crowd, he came upon a simple idea.  Since James had not yet gotten in the habit of speaking English after the semester had ended, he did not realize he was speaking a foreign language when he addressed his date.

“Would you like to accompany me on the dance floor?” James asked in Russian.  He also offered his hand to her, hoping they could escape the incessant gossip for a couple of minutes.    Hopefully, this will allow us a chance to speak privately.  More importantly, I am less likely to stab someone with the fifth fork I have had to use this evening! James thought to himself, but managed to keep a genuine smile because he was looking at a pretty witch.  Not really aware of his surroundings, James was struggling to come up with a way to broach the subject that had been bugging him this season. 

One more year of functions like this at the request of her mother before she could pick and choose the ones she wanted to go to herself. Or, she could pick the dates she wanted to attend with. It wasn't that James Forrester was a horrible one--he was pure, handsome and a nice enough fellow--but it seemed that neither had had much of a choice in the pairing. They were doing it out of duty and thus that took some of the focus off of enjoying each other's company.

Melanthe's mother had surprisingly been pleased with her selection of a dress for this ball. It was flattering for her full figure and her height and the silver fabric complimented her complexion. Her makeup had been done in a smokey fashion to make her look more mature than her sixteen years might imply.

When her date spoke, Melanthe turned to look at him, instead of surveying their surroundings for the other young purebloods in attendance milling about, some of them just as awkwardly as she and James were  doing. The parents all hung back on the sidelines, anxiously watching and talking amongst themselves, likely solidifying future arrangements, maneuvering all the pieces like a game of chess.

As James held out his hand to her, Melanthe bowed her head and murmured, "I'd love to." She slipped her hand into his and allowed him to lead the way. As much as she often felt these balls were antiquated and pointless, Melanthe knew that she would much rather spend her time dancing than giggling on the sidelines with some of her more flighty female classmates. She was finding that she had less and less in common with them as the school year progressed.

With a half sigh as they reached the dance floor and she turned to face him as they got settled into the dance hold, she earnestly looked up into his face and asked, "Are you having any fun?"

James was happy to escape the idiocy of gossip.  James never cared for it, and unless it came about professional quidditch players he was summarily uninterested.  Even then, the tabloids just seemed to drone on about who was dating whom and other pointless pieces of information.  He finally found that Wizard’s Health was a fairly useful resource as far as diet and exercise was concerned, but he had to go through a lot of dross before stumbling upon that gem.  As Melanthe accepted his hand, his smile got a little bit bigger.  Even with the mindless prattle that never seemed to end at these events, dancing with a pretty witch was always a positive thing for the young man.

"Are you having any fun?"

James knew that his answer would probably determine much of their relationship for at least the remainder of their time at Durmstrang, and could quite possibly come to bite him in the butt at a much later date considering her wealth and social standing.  Realizing that she spoke English, and mentally slapping himself for forgetting which country he was in, he replied in his native tongue.  Not really doing too many fancy maneuvers since he had to think about his response, James just started with a simple box step while he spoke.

“I am enjoying dancing with a pretty girl, but to be honest I could do without the insipid prattling of our classmates.  That was one of the main reasons I asked you to the floor.  I was about ready to stab one of them with a fork.   The food is always spectacular at these things, but all the pointless gossip is grating.  I have been seriously tempted to go grab a broom and spend the rest of the night flying several times, but did not know if you would enjoy that,” James said between steps.

Deciding to show off a little, James led Melanthe through a few advanced maneuvers, and noticed that they were beginning to attract an audience.  A small circle had formed around them, because apparently some people felt the need to stop and stare at them.  Wondering if it was his skill or his date they were staring at, James did a little bit showier dancing and then finally dipped Melanthe when the song ended.  He noticed a few applauses and whistles coming from the people who watched him, but was rather irked about the entire sequence.  He had wanted to continue his previous conversation.  A slower song started up, and James felt no need to go back to the table.  Keeping his hands in a dancing position, James led Melanthe once more.

“Sorry about that. Anyways – I am suffering through this, but suffering through it with you has made it much more tolerable than the previous years.  It is kind of sad, but I feel like though we have been to so many of these things, yet we hardly know each other.  I would like to get to know you better, and I would like to see how things work when we do not have to worry about using the wrong fork,” James said, completely honest.

Melanthe felt that James was a nice enough bloke but simply hated the fact that their parents--who mainly subscribed to the traditional ideals associated with blood purity--pushed them together so much. They watched them with an eagle eye. They expected something to come from it all. Which was altogether unfortunate because it made enjoying one another difficult. So Jame's question about having any fun was not the easiest one to respond to honestly.

"I.....yes," she finally said after briefly hesitating. She flashed him her best brilliant smile, hoping it would deflect  his attention away from the likelihood that it did not sound convincing. "You look very dashing tonight, James." With a wry smile, she added, "It's not often that I see you not in your quidditch uniform." She boldly reached out and fingered his tie and then trailed her fingers down over the lapel of his suit jacket. She was certain the gesture was being watched with interest by onlookers, but she did not care.

True to her assessment, James brought up the sport that so consumed much of his life. In truth, Melanthe did not mind it or flying in general. But it wasn't often that she engaged in either. She left such mastery to people like James. Still, she told him, "Perhaps later on we can go for a broom ride. It's been some time since I've felt the wind in my hair."

The dance took over and conversation ceased as to her surprise, James began to display his skill. She was impressed by his virtuosity in that regard and by the dance's end when she had been dipped, her breath had caught in her throat. Impressed indeed!

As she returned to her upright position, she shook her head when he apologized. "No, that's fine." Then she nodded when his words about not really getting the chance to know each other echoed her own thoughts from before. Since the slower dance had brought them into a closer hold, Melanthe quietly suggested, "Perhaps then, you'd like to go for a walk?" Surely their parents wouldn't object to them taking a stroll of the grounds. Any sort of ca-noodling would be met with approval, right?

James could not help but blush a little while Melanthe was playing with his tie.  ’If it gets that sort of reaction out of you, perhaps I should wear this outfit more often’ James thought to himself.  Though he would consider it, it was highly doubtful that James would actually take the suggestion once he returned to school.  Simply put, flying took entirely too much of his time and anything else just fell to the wayside.  James knew that it was a credit to his professors that he had actually passed most of his owls and would likely pass his NEWTs.  James single-minded determination, while good for quidditch was not good for much else.  Melanthe interrupted his thoughts though. 

"Perhaps then, you'd like to go for a walk?" the pretty pureblooded witch asked James.  Eager to take any excuse to get away from the maddening crowd, James concurred with her proposition. 

“That is a splendid idea,” James replied with a genuine smile on his face.  After managing to lead them off the dance floor, James offered his arm to the witch.  He was wondering where he should take her.  Ordinarily, he would take her on a tour of the grounds, but it was the middle of winter.  Quickly realizing that might be the entire point, James offered her a couple of tours.

“There are a couple of places we could go.  I could take you on a tour of the manor or I could show you the gardens.  Which would you prefer?” James asked, though he had already started walking one direction.    Figuring it would not be the end of the world if they had to take a couple of turns, James could almost hear more people gossiping.  Wondering why his family hung around such busy-bodies for most of the holidays, James was thankful that he did not have to put up with all of this pomp and circumstance after this year.  He almost felt sorry for his brother since he still had to show up to these events.  Deciding that he had thought of his brother enough for the time being, James paid attention to his surroundings.  Though the family manor was extravagantly decorated for the New Year, James paid more attention to the witch on his arm.   James would prefer to look at her than anything else in the manor.

Melanthe let her arm settle into the crook of his and allowed him to lead her off of the dancefloor and towards the doors. When he asked where he should take her, she resisted the urge to sigh in frustration. She heard her mother's voice in her head entreating her to let her male counterparts lead the way. Melanthe's ambitions to be more than a pretty little thing on someone's arm often made it difficult for her to dominate. But with a concerted effort, she could be more subdued.

With a shrug and a small smile, Melanthe deferred to James. "I'll follow where you lead." Even as she said the words, she wanted to cringe, especially at their implications. Was this what she was going to be relegated to? Scripted answers in a scripted life that probably included a scripted marriage? It all left a bitter taste in her mouth.

This compelled her to break from her decision to be submissive. She abruptly dug her fingertips into his arm and asserted, "Actually, on second thought, I think I would like it if you were to show me the gardens." Realizing this might alarm him, she followed it with a sweet smile. She quickly added, "Well....I mean...my name means 'dark flower' so obviously I love gardens." She laughed at the silliness of her own statement. It was highly unlikely that there would be any flowers, dark or otherwise, blooming in his gardens at this time of year. "I'm sure the gardens are beautiful even with the snow," she said quietly.

James really did not care which part of the manor she wanted to see, James had seen all of it during his existence, and if Melanthe wanted to see the gardens because of her name, that suited James just fine.  He really did not get why she was so nervous, but James did not understand very many things outside of quidditch.  Not really thinking about it one way or the other, James asked her,

“So after six and a half years at Durmstrang, do you prefer being dark or do you prefer being a flower?  I hear you have pretty high marks in Dark Arts,” James asked her.  Figuring that they could, if nothing else, talk about one class they had in common.  Even if James snuck off half the time to go fly, he had somehow managed to keep an acceptable in the class even into the NEWT levels.  Wondering when he would ever use the Dark Arts in quidditch, James figured that if the referee got bad enough that he could always stop playing and start casting.

As he led her down a couple of corridors he pointed out random pieces of family history and trivia.  Eventually they arrived at the gardens.  It was primarily a botanical garden, since the Forresters had been herbologists of note since the family first removed themselves from the muggle sphere of influence.  Consequently, they had come across a large number of specimens over the family’s history.  Though most of the trees were leafless with the exception of a few evergreens, there were still a large number of plants blooming, though there would be substantially more blooming in the summer.  James remembered that they had a particular variety of black flower that bloomed in the winter.  The flower had a dark green stem with no leaves, and the petals bloomed in a rounded star formation typical of oleanders.  Finding a batch of them growing about ten yards away, he told Melanthe to  “Hold on a second,” before trotting over to pick one up, and giving it to her.

“I figured this was appropriate, given your name,” handing her the black flower. 

"I prefer being both," she responded evenly. Then the corner of her lip turned up in a half smile. She could let him believe that she was merely playful, right? But both parts of her name seemed to go hand-in-hand.

"I guess I love that class," she told him simply with a shrug of her shoulders. "And Professor Storm is brilliant. It would be foolish to not listen to what he says or to practice what he teaches. Never know when we'll need to use it." Melanthe did not elaborate on this comment, as there was more than one reason why she loved exploring the dark arts. She wasn't prepared to open up to Forrester about all of them.

Melanthe knew his repuutation around school as a boy who liked quidditch and not much else. She respected that he had an affinity for something and pursued it with vigor, but she wasn't sure they were entirely compatible, given her differing interests.

Melanthe followed James through the halls of his home until they reached their garden destination. She was impressed by the Forrester's extensive collection. She immediately became occupied with looking over the varietals and only returned her attention to James when he pulled away from her to pick a flower.

To anyone else, a black flower would have been an appalling gift. But not to the person who had essentially been named after it. Since birth, Melanthe had grown to appreciate her connection to dark  flowers.

She accepted the flower with a demure smile and bent her head to smell it's fragrance. She murmured, "Thank you, James. How...thoughtful of you." Feeling some strange desire to reciprocate and give him a gift, Melanthe turned to the only means available to her in such a foreign place. She lightly placed a hand on his arm and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. When she pulled back, she smiled at him and then turned back to smelling the flower.

If James were a few years older, he would have made a better attempt to seduce the beautiful witch in front of him.  As it was, he had yet to have enough experience with women to actually try to imitate Casanova at this point in his life.  Consequently, he had a silly looking grin on his face after Melanthe kissed him.  He wished he actually knew what to do now that she had taken the initiative.  Remembering his coaches’ advice, ‘If you do not know what to do, then fake it or pass it.’  James was not sure how quaffle handling applied to romantic relationships, but he was not about to pass Melanthe off even if he could.  James knew he had an opportunity here; he just had a hard time figuring out what that opportunity was for.  Knowing pureblood society like he did, he doubted he had the opportunity to engage a physical relationship.  As far as he knew, Melanthe was a virgin and probably would be until she was married, which James was fairly certain would be shortly after they graduated.  Maybe he had an opportunity to take this relationship to a higher level, or maybe he had an opportunity to make a solid friend.  As much as he hated to admit it, the conditions under which they met did sort of emulate a quidditch training camp.  Obviously, they were not doing athletic training until someone puked, but both of them had been putting on a show for the maddening crowd for over a week.  James knew that they were both fed up with the amount of pretense they both had to put up with.  Deciding to do one thing in which he would always abandon pretense, he silently accioed a broom.

“You know, I think it is time we tried to get to know each other at a higher level.  That, and the view is spectacular from the air.  Hop on,” James declared.  He was well aware of the fact that she would have to hold him tight for the duration of the flight, which was one of the main reasons he was offering her a tour.