The Ministry formally advises that all contact with muggles and their world be kept to a minimum. Muggles are an admittedly useless creature, far inferior to our abilities and knowledge. The Ministry advises those who have made it clear they are blood traitors are not to be reckoned with or kept informed of the goings on within our world as they have made their choice.
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by: Damien LeMarch
Her simple preparations were relaxing to watch. Right on down to the jeans and simple tee, the braided hair, she looked comfortable. This was a rare treat; normally his lover’s retreat was the last he saw of them. Most of his relationships were one and done types of deals but this was quite the treat. She wanted to know him. She wanted to know him. Merlin, what was he supposed to do with that? He wasn’t worth her time of day, but the way she lit up when she smiled at the idea of getting to know him just made him feel like singing.

The corner of his mouth curled at that. Like singing? When did he NOT feel like singing? To be fair, though, he wanted to sings songs of joy and delight and happiness, not adultery and partying and debauchery. She made him feel things that life didn’t normally give.

”I like eating lunch. So yeah, let’s pack one.”

He caressed the smooth ridges of her braid and turned to his guitar. Should he bring the beat up old thing? His best girl, he called the battered, honey colored instrument. The half veela frowned and considered what could happen if he did. Sitting under a tree, playing for her while she danced, then sit and sing together? Was he stupid? The guitar was coming along. He scooped it up and grabbed his frisbee from the top shelf of his closet.

”I’ll watch you if you watch out for me, too, okay?”

Once he had his stuff, he stacked it by the door and headed to help her finish up the simple picnic. They should take a blanket or sheet or something...but he only had his one set, so should he unmake his bed or maybe, instead, they could do something else.

”How about we sit by the fountain and eat, then play some music and then frisbee so we don’t make ourselves sick?”

If they ran and jumped too much after the food, vomiting would be imminent and that was a no-no. Instead, music. Songs, questions, bonding. Yeah. Grow closer and then play, come back, listen to the radio and cuddle? Sounded like a hell of a night, honestly. Damien helped pack up the meal, grabbed his stuff, then held the door open for her.
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
Rigan smiled at him, watching his hand stroke her hair. The simple and gentle affection forced her chest to expand. Not in a breath but like something might be swelling instead. But she could feel it so maybe it was just in her head? Either way it was a strange feeling; not unpleasant just weird. Not that she should be having that reaction. She had had her hair stroked before. So with Damien it shouldn’t be any different. Yet it felt like it was. Weird. Just… Weird. Shrugging it off, Rigan set to packing up a lunch for them. If they were going to be running around they would need carbs, proteins, sugars… She peeked in the fridge to think a moment before settling on sandwiches, fruit, and crackers. Humming she quickly made up their sandwiches, tucked the fruit into the bottom of a plastic bag then the sandwiches and a sleeve of crackers. She tucked four water bottles into the backpack for them, preferring to have extra water over not enough.

She looked up at his promise to watch out for her and her eyes briefly turned white like a flash of lightning. ”Yeah. I won’t let anything happen to ya, Damien,” she promised easily, almost more protective than what he had meant. Not that she really understood where that swell of emotion came from either. This was confusing. She would have to take some time later to relax and try to figure it out. Before it swallowed her up like it felt like it was threatening to do already.

Her eyes settled on the guitar case as she lifted the backpack to carry easily. Another wide grin spread over her face at that, ”Yeah,” she agreed, ”Eat by the fountain and, if we go to Hyde Park, I know where one of the bigger trees in that we can hide under after for the shade.” Rigan hesitated then when he opened the door but swallowed the nerves that still came from going out in public in her condition. Taking a deep breath, she realized that she didn’t have to push very hard to hide her sparks today. Instead of acting up, the sparks were a pleasant and quiet thrumming under her skin. Without much worry, Rigan took Damien’s free hand once they had gotten out of the building, content to walk by his side.

”I’ve been meaning to ask,” she started suddenly as they walked through the city, ”Those songs you sang to me. I’ve never heard them before. Did you write them?”
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by: Damien LeMarch
Hyde park...they’d met there. That’s where he’d run to when he was out of his mind. It would be nice to experience in daylight, sobriety, and friendship. Damien’s smile at her declaration of protection was sunny and accepting. Not only did he accept her protectiveness, but he gifted it to her, too. He wasn’t able to physically fight and protect, but his realm was emotional protection and nurturing. As long as she was here, he’d give her that attention.

”Hyde it is. Scoot on out, I’ll get the door.”

He locked his apartment and left the building, marveling in delight at Rigan taking his hand. He kept hers, gently holding it like a bird. He could only depend on its presence so long as he had her trust. It was a precious gift, he intuited. And yet she gave him such openness and care, so how could he doubt her trust and caring? Not only did she give him that, but she wanted to know more about his music.

Damien gave her another sunny smile and suddenly bent to place a kiss on the top of her head before answering.

”Yeah I did! I write music, and I got some of them on the radio, too. If I do well enough, I might be able to quit my jobs and play full time. I hope...”
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
”Oh they’re so good! Do you write them down? Where do they come from?” she asked rapidly, ”I tried to write songs before but writing is hard and so are words and it just didn’t work. But I could make some sheet music for the violin…” She blushed suddenly and looked up at him. She hadn’t meant to over explain but music was one of the few things she related to easily.

A small smile managed to cross her face for him and she squeezed his hand quietly. ”I bet you could. You’re really talented. And if you’re on the radio already I bet you’ll just get bigger from there,” she said brightly. Rigan hummed then, leaning her head against his arm as they walked. ”You said the fountain first right?” she asked again, leading him towards it playfully.

She felt light. It was weird and she had more smiles in her than she knew what to do with. She looked up at Damien with the same bright look before stepping towards him to halt their walk briefly. She leaned up and kissed his chin, chaste and more affection than anything else before heading along again.
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by: Damien LeMarch
The sudden barrage of questions caught the half veela off guard and forced a laugh out of him. He looked at her with delight and tried to sort through them so he could answer her coherently.


Right, coherently.

”I keep a notebook. Anything full or fragmentary, or anything really, I write down. And they come from just...I dunno. Thoughts? Hearing stuff? Feeling things, a lot. I write what I feel.”

He lapsed into an amused silence. Words WERE hard, and so was music, but his nature made it easier. For the veela, song and dance were like breathing. It was a natural expression for them to sing and flow with song. Hell, he wasn’t a dancer, like most documented veela and veela mixes, but maybe males were singers instead? A whole culture built off of song and dance, call and response...the stronger song of a male being responded to the best dancing of a female to come together to create offspring? It made sense, in a way. Bird-like. The males sang for territory, the females responded to the song.

Or maybe he was full of it and just justifying his hobby and magic without any reason. Whatever was the truth, he sang. It was like his heart beat, and that was that.

Damien followed her tugs and affections to the fountain and sat on it, feet kicked up and body laid back. He put his head in her lap and smiled up at her. The sound of water, the bright, blue sky, the soft touches of caring...could this day get better?

”Tell me about the violin. I’ve never played it.”

He invited her to share more about what she was obviously passionate about; it seemed to make her even more beautiful.
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
Rigan watched him lay out, a pleased hum escaping her chest at the lazy affection from the gesture. She combed her fingers through his dense hair lazily as he spoke, watching as his mind wander for a moment his brown eyes venturing in thought. She let him take his time with his thoughts as she sorted her own thoughts. She was in a strange and wonderful situation. She had never expected this to happen when she helped a man out of the mud. Especially one that seemed determined to believe that she was nothing more than a hallucination at the time. Yet now she had become… something. Sparks and Stars is what he said and that was something special. Her chest did that weird swelling thing again and Rigan forced herself to take a deep breath to calm. But all of this was good. More than good but she didn’t want overinflate this and end up being disappointed. But perhaps the world was finally repaying her for all the terrible things that had happened over the course of her own life.

Damien asking her about the violin had her falling back into memories. Not all good but if Rigan focused on the violin it was more bearable to think back to that other place. It wasn’t the white but now it seemed just as bad. Maybe a little worse because she never had known better. Never known that people weren’t like that and shouldn’t be like that. At least in the white she had Mama and the others… But at… home? The Ardagh estate? Which ever it was because the mutant didn’t know what to call it. At least not without causing a sharp pain through her torso with the very thought. It was hard to remember how it had been made perfectly clear that the longer she went without a manifestation of magic the less she was wanted. Until… She shook her head a bit against the harsh memory. Rigan didn’t want those shadows to ruin her day.

Letting her fingers tangle in his hair some more, Rigan drew on the violin. The sweet music that came from the strings, the smell of varnish, the sharp tacky smell of the bow threads… She even remembered the pain in her fingertips, the callouses long softened from lack of practice. She would bleed the next time she got to play.

It would be worth it.

But she would miss certain things with this new body she had developed. The bite of metal strings as her fingers rocked through the notes, the press on her jaw and shoulder from the instrument wedged between them, the feeling of the vibrations of the string against her skin. Little things. But still the music lived. And she lived. And she could play again.

Rigan realized she had been staring into her memories for a while rather than answering Damien’s question. More calm now, the blonde gave him a sincere smile. ”It’s not much different than playing the guitar. Just smaller really. I’ve had trouble with guitar because of the neck size. I can’t get some of the notes,” she admitted, looking at his case, ”But basically you use a bow instead for sharper sounds. You can pluck the strings but they are kept at a higher tension than a guitar so trying to strum doesn’t really make a good sound. Plus the hand formation for the notes is in a one-two-one format rather than adjusting the fingers more freely.”

Rigan held up her hand then to show Damien; she paired her middle finger against her ring then pushed out her pointer and ring finger. ”This is the starting formation,” she said brightly, ”You can move your fingers a bit but most are based around this cluster.” Her smile grew then, ”Ya know, I did offer to teach you to play. I don’t have a violin right now but I’ll be looking to get one soon,” she pointed out.
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by: Damien LeMarch
She drifted into her memories. Her eyes darkened from hope into sincerity, as far as blues went. Damien merely watched, waiting for her to come back. Where ever she was, he could wait for her to come back. Besides, her fingers were in his hair, and that was nice. When she finally returned, teaching him about violins, he mirrored her hand gesture, listening closely. His hands were long fingered and elegant, callused and strong from his guitar playing, and clean. The bones of his wrist were prominent, but only seemed to add to the limb's elegance instead of detracting from it.

"Like that...? And did you offer? I guess I'll need to save up for a violin, then...maybe rent one. I'd like that. And if you want, I can teach you the ukulele. I think you'd like it."

The ukulele would be a good fit, indeed. Smaller, sweeter sounding, playful. Yeah, the ukulele would be a good fit, indeed.
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
”I mean I plan on getting one. You can always use mine to learn,” she offered gently, still stroking his hair. She hummed to him briefly as he talked about teaching her. If he was offering to teach her as well that meant he wanted her to stay. For even longer than just today. The idea still blindsided her. In a good way but still. Someone wanted her around even with all her strangeness. Another smile bloomed on her face and she kissed his forehead gently in appreciation of the simple gift he probably wasn’t aware he had given her.

”I would like that very much, Damien,” she agreed to the lessons with a smile as her chest fluttered in warning of something, ”Though I will admit I don’t know much about the ukulele. It’s like a tiny guitar right? But with the same amount of strings as a violin?”

Maybe she was getting hungry? Perhaps that was what the fluttering and skipping of her pulse was trying to warn her about. Or maybe she was dehydrated again. Though she had not felt any negative effects in a long while since most relied on discomfort and pain sensation to make the person aware. Either way… She reached for the bag, ”You hungry?” she offered, pulling their meal out slowly and setting on the fountain side. After they had eaten, Rigan would take him to the tree to relax in the shade while their meal settled. Maybe she would dance a little if he decided to play for her. Or she could try to remember how to play and attempt for the first time in years. Maybe have him show her some new chords now that she was older and her hands were slightly bigger than her seven year old self. Either way the day would be sure to continue in the same thread of loveliness that it had started on.
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by: Damien LeMarch
Her smile was just heavenly. It did something to her eyes that made his heart skip and tugged the corners of his own mouth to answer her expression. The promise of lessons, of togetherness, music, and familiarity was like rain on a drought parched land. How sweet it was to have someone want to share something intimate without the demands of carnal intimacy…not that that was a bad thing, he reflected. But this was more rare, more special, and more valued.

Her admittance of not being familiar with the ukulele only drew a wider, more reassuring grin as he laid in her lap.

”Kind of. The strum pattern is like a guitar, but yeah, four strings like a violin. It’s got a higher, happier sound than a guitar, I think. A lot of Hawaiian songs, but I like to play covers on it, too…”

He trailed off at her fingers playing in his hair. Why did it have to feel so good? The gentle touches and sweet smell of her just relaxed him further than he had any right to feel, lulling him into a peaceful state. If he had any religion, this would be heaven. Hell, maybe he’d been right the first night and she was a Valkyrie. Maybe he’d been found worthy, and maybe he was dead. This would be his Valhalla, to feast, relax, and play music for eternity. Heaven in a stained-glass lullaby. There was an image, he mused. And why not? She was an angel, he was a worshiper, and the altar was the symphonic landscape of their music together. The reverie he was delving into shattered apart when she asked about food.

”Huh? Oh, food. Yeah. I could eat. We should do some water, too.”

He sat up in a smooth motion and helped her unpack the meal, then focused on eating. He drained a quarter of his water bottle, stifled a belch in the back of his hand, and excused himself with an impish grin.

”Compliments from the stomach, I guess. Now what? Music time?”

She’d been eyeing a tree off deeper in the park. He’d followed her gaze to it when they’d been eating and, frankly, had to suppress the urge to climb the stately thing. It was hoarding shadows under its spreading canopy and looked to have an especially soft hummock of grass under it. Such a location was ideal for sitting, playing music, and relaxing. Damien gathered his things and stood to go sit and play songs for his girl.
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
He looked so content that she hated interrupting his peace. But if she needed to eat then he did as well. She had noticed that his ribs were as prominent as her own so that would be a silent goal of hers; making sure he ate enough so he wasn’t skin and bone. Rigan stroked his hair once more before unpacking their meals. She fell into the comfortable silence between them as she focused on eating her meal. A sandwich, a fruit, half a bottle of water. That would be more than enough for a full meal portion of someone her size without overstuffing herself.

A surprised giggle and snort escaped her at Damien’s ‘compliment’ and she covered her own mouth at the nasally reaction, pink staining her cheeks in surprise. It had been a long time that the mutant had laughed so deeply she snorted but the expression that Damien had gotten just triggered it. He seemed to triggered a lot of surprising but good reactions in her. It was really, really nice. She smiled more as he seemed to read her thoughts about moving to the tree. Having someone who relied and enjoyed music as much as she did was a delight too; it was easier for her to enjoy the day when she didn’t have to constantly ask for what she wanted. That was just too hard for her most of the time.

She gathered up their trash and disposed of it before following him to her favorite tree. Touching the trunk, she sighed happily and looked up at the thick branches that shadowed them from the outside world. The thick canopy of drooping, happy branches that acted like a barrier from intruders and any unwelcome thoughts or guests. ”This tree is a weeping beech. Or the upside-down tree. It’s really old and people like to be cool and carve things into it. I hate that though. It deserves to be treated better than that,” she said, tracing some of the graffiti on the bark, ”This is my favorite spot in the entire city. I used the hide here when I was younger. I was small enough that I could climb all the way to the top and see everything in the park.”

She snapped out of her story and smiled at him shyly. ”Sorry. It’s just important to me,” she said shyly. Rigan came and folded to sit beside Damien then, taking a moment to steal a kiss on his cheek affectionately, ”Will you play me more of your songs? Even the fragments were really beautiful,” she asked hopefully, raising her big blue eyes to him with the same content smile that had not left her face since they had woken up this morning.
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by: Damien LeMarch
Her reverence for the old, droopy tree made Damien take pause and try to see it from her perspective. So many good memories were here for her, and the fact that she wanted to share something like that with him just indicated how close they were growing. Gently, he put a hand on the trunk and looked up. The dappled light from the upper branches was golden green, healthy, and clean. The random flutter of the wind in the leaves made the light dance. Beautiful.

”It’s okay. You don’t need to be sorry. I can see it’s special.”

Damien took the calm into himself and sat under the branches, then pulled his guitar out. She wanted music, so she’d get it. He couldn’t give her more than that, really…his acceptance and affections, his music, his roof. That’s all he had and he gave it happily. Damien carefully plucked each string on the dinged up old instrument, listening with a trained ear. He adjusted the tuning and began playing a warm up tune first.

”Warm up first, then I’ll play you some of my stuff, okay?”

His fingers danced through his chords, touching and moving quickly, turning what was a warm up stretch into its own art form. He slowed, watching his hands carefully, then built in tempo again. The chords changed and slowed and he transitioned to ‘Lying’ for her. Well, ‘Lying is the most fun’ was the real title, but that was a mouthful and he was just interested in playing.

” Is it still me that makes you sweat? Am I who you think about in bed? When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress? Well, then think of what you did, and how I hope to God he was worth it, when the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch your skin…”

He sang softly, building in volume and intensity as he fell into the song.
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by: Corrigan Ardagh
Rigan smiled at him brightly. Even he could sense the special spot within the tree, the little hide-out where she would watch the stars and wish for more. Nothing specific just more. Stupid childhood dreams she still clung to even now. She smiled and pressed her forehead to the tree briefly for a moment before looking at Damien as he got his guitar out again.

Quickly, the blonde took up a seat beside him watching him tune and play the guitar with a curious look. Her fingers mocked the chord movements on her leg as she attempted to learn purely through the visual aspect of him playing. ”Gonna wait for a little bit more for my food to settle then maybe I’ll dance some,” she teased him playfully. Of course she would end up dancing. His songs were perfect for dancing. Even with just a guitar the underlying beat was there and easy for her to settle on for her steps and dancing.

Color washed through her cheeks as he sang. She wasn’t sure if it was just because of his voice or if it was the lyrics. She watched him sing, enthralled. At least that’s how she felt. It was how she always felt when he sang to her. Her hand wandered up to stroke back his hair as he sang unable to help herself and just smiling at his song, wiggling in her seat a bit as she tried to follow her rule. She didn’t want to make herself sick by dancing too soon after eating. That would just ruin the day.
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