Savor Every Moment of This

[Silas Scrivenshaft]

July 20, 1883

Silas was not a man prone to such excitement. It had been years since he'd felt any sort of nervousness because he was about to embark upon a meeting of this particular sort. He remembered slightly the first few times he had met with Callista as he waited outside his shop for Miss O'Neill to arrive. It felt similar - not exactly the same - to be waiting for her as it had to wait for Callista. Of course the feelings were different. The two women were indeed very different from one another despite their similarities and the way he felt about them too were different though equally as potent. He knew not what it was that Miss O'Neill had done to make him so smitten but he knew that he was in fact so.

As such he had been certain to be dressed as well as possible for the slightly casual event. After all he hoped that he could catch her fancy as much as she had caught him, strange as it seemed to be when he thought on it. Silas was well aware that he needed to produce an heir and that finding a wife was very important but even so he had not expected to so easily find a woman that he was so keen on courting. Miss O'Neill, however, seemed to be everything that he wanted to have in a woman. Intelligent, captivating, not terribly coy without being too bold and certainly not lacking in beauty. She was - in simplest terms - nearly perfect as far as he was concerned.

So when he saw her approach with who he assumed to be her aunt in tow he couldn't help but smile broadly at her. She was just as beautiful as he remembered - even moreso - and he rather expected she would always catch him off guard with her beauty. He was glad to see her, certainly, and hoped she could think the same for him. "Miss O'Neill," He greeted with a smile, taking her lovely hand and placing a chaste kiss against her knuckles, "how very nice to see you again." He finished, standing up straight to regard her aunt. He could only hope that things would go well.

  

[Ivy Scrivenshaft]

Ivy had laboured relentlessly over her choice of dress today before it occurred to her, in a moment of utter clarity, than Mr Scrivenshaft wouldn’t care what colour dress she wore, or whether it would match her eyes. Even if he had been the sort of man to care for such trivialities – which even before their rather more familiar acquaintance she had not suspected him of being for a second – he would not have asked to see her again if he didn’t find her pleasing to the eye, or at least – she hoped – to the heart, even in the somewhat unattractive robes she was required to wear as a hospital intern. She had eventually settled on blue, despite her friend’s best attempts to try and thrust her into something pink, and if the gown happened to match her eyes then it was merely a pleasant coincidence.

Mr Scrivenshaft, she suspected, would look handsome dressed in a paper bag, and she steeled herself for the inevitable flurry of emotion she would feel upon glimpsing him. It did no good however: even with her Aunt at her side and surly at the mere mention of a suitor she flushed at the sight of the man and felt distinctly dizzy when he smiled. Her own happiness at seeing him again was clearly reflected in his eyes and her smile widened at the touch of his lips to her hand. Aunt Margaret could stomp her foot all she liked, but she liked Mr Scrivenshaft – anything more she felt she refused to admit to herself until she was sure those feelings were reciprocated in their entirety – and she was determined to enjoy his company despite her beloved, yet hostile, chaperone.

“Good afternoon, Mr Scrivenshaft,” she greeted softly, squeezing his hand with brief – but purposeful – affection. Aunt Margaret would balk at balk if she displayed too much fondness, and the last thing she wanted was to be too forward. “May I introduce you to my Aunt, Miss Margaret O’Neill?” She swept her gaze affectionately in the older woman’s direction. “Aunt Margaret, this is Mr Silas Scrivenshaft, the proprietor of Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop.”

  

[Silas Scrivenshaft]

He had to admit that he was a bit nervous about meeting Ivy's aunt. The woman gave a distinct air of being displeased with any man that had designs on her niece no matter how honorable or innocent they were. That was intimidating to say the least but he hoped that he could at least manage to make her feel ambivalent towards him. The last thing he needed was a member of her family hating him for some reason or another. So he gave a kind smile and a bow before addressing her. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss O'Neill." He said it cordially but not without an air of genuineness before turning back to Ivy.

"I know we spoke of a trip to Irvingly," He started with a smile, "but I know not what your preferred method of travel is." Apparation or floo would be easiest but he figured he'd best ask her what she preferred. After all, she could be poor at apparation though he was hesitant to believe she could be poor at much of anything. She was an amazing young woman far as he could tell and he was very much inclined to believe that her endeavors tended to succeed more than they did not. Then again that could simply be because he was very much taken by her that he thought such things.

"I have a fireplace connected to the floo network in my shop but I know they have apparation points there." He explained simply before posing a question: "Which form of travel do you prefer? I find I'm not much fussy either way so please choose which you are most comfortable with." He said it easily with a smile, looking between the two Miss O'Neill's. He was, after all, asking the preferences of both of them. He did not want to forget her aunts comfort, after all. Especially if he was to dissuade her from keeping that air of discontent that was directed towards him.

  

[Ivy Scrivenshaft]

A brief glance at her Aunt was more than enough for Ivy to ascertain her position on the matter. Not on Silas per say, who she had just started referring to as Silas in her head—her opinion on him would come when they were alone once again—but on the question of transport to Irvingly. Their most recent experience with apparition, though successful she was proud to note, had been under rather miserable circumstances and the strain of that day still affected her Aunt even now. Thank Merlin that Mrs. Pendergast had been alive and well once they had arrived in Hogsmeade, but they had both known it could have been so much worse and that knowledge still haunted Margaret now. No; apparition would not do, which left the floo network in Silas’ shop.

Truth be told, Ivy sometimes wished that there was a simpler form of travel. A bus for example would not go amiss: she had always taken the bus in Oldham and she had been perfectly fine, but there would probably be a riot if they tried to install a real bus in Hogsmeade. The floo network would have to do, even if Ivy still found the whole thing a little unnerving, but she suspected that had nothing to do with the method of transport itself and everything to do with her grandmother’s (a squib) insistence that one of these days one of them would set themselves on fire.

“I think we’d both feel more comfortable using the floo network,” she replied warmly. Her smiles these days were far more frequent, and she spared another one for Silas now. “If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

  

[Silas Scrivenshaft]

Watching as they silently conferred, he just nodded when she said floo would be best. "I've no true preference on the matter - whichever suits you two best is fine with me." He said with a smile, opening the door to his shop and ushering them in. The grand fireplace was perhaps the most extravagant thing about his shop and it was placed behind the counter with a thing of floo powder on the mantle. It was very ornate considering where it was and it was one of Silas's favorite things about his shop. "Right this way." He held open the tiny little door of sorts that separated the back of the counter from the rest of the shop, letting them go before him.

Picking up the little cup of floo powder he offered it first to Ivy so that there would not be a moment when they were together without the watchful eye of her chaperon. Though they had, in fact, broken decorum already by him accompanying her to the hospital that one time he did indeed wish to make a good impression to her aunt as he was hoping very much indeed that he would be allowed to see Ivy even more. Already Silas thought of asking permission to court her for that was how very taken he was with the young woman. He had no doubt that she was the woman he'd been waiting to meet. Pushing aside the thoughts, he smiled at Ivy in his ever friendly smile.

"Speaking 'Irvingly Casino' will get you there. I'll follow after your aunt." He said, offering the floo powder to Ivy and hoping to get it all done with quickly. Silas was not one for magical means of transportation - they were all rather uncomfortable for him save for flying and that he was not overly skilled at. But it was the only quick way to get to Irvingly and of course he'd deal with it. Besides, floo transport was the lesser of the evils as far as he was concerned.

  

[Ivy Scrivenshaft]

Ivy suspected she had been rather spoiled by the time she and Silas had spent alone the other day. There had been an ease and warmth to their conversation that wasn't entirely lacking now but it was difficult to converse and gauge the interest of a man you were decidedly interested in yourself with a chaperone watching your every move. Though propriety hadn't been entirely tossed out of the window back on the farm, there had been considerably more freedom in interactions with the other sex, but Hogsmeade was different and even smiling at a man as you passed them by was enough to ruin a woman's reputation. She had been quite lucky the other day, and she knew it was entirely in her interest to have her Aunt here to prevent any talk of scandal, but she couldn't help, at the very least, to crave just one moment alone with him. Her Aunt could floo first and leave them alone, and then she might be able to tell Silas just how pleased she was that they were here, but there was no question of such a luxury and instead Ivy nodded her consent. As an afterthought she glanced at her Aunt, pleased to see that she concurred, and took hold of the proffered powder.

Their fingers brushed as the took the cup from Silas' hand, and it was as if she had been struck by lightning. Well, not quite that dramatic, but a current of something had begun in her fingers and travelled to every cell in her body, and Ivy could only surmise it was desire. She knew precious little about that sort of thing but enough to recognise it when she felt it and her cheeks flushed a distinct shade of pink.

"Thank you," she muttered, clearing her throat, and after approval from her Aunt and a lingering glance at Silas, she tossed a handful of powder into the fireplace and was transported to Irvingly.

  

[Silas Scrivenshaft]

She was not the only one to be affected by their brief contact. Silas thought it was all rather ridiculous. He was a grown man and surely to be so easily affected by something so terribly chaste as the brushing of fingers was silly indeed. Especially given that he was no longer a young man who was completely ignorant to the touch of a woman. He hastily brushed that fact aside because the last thing he needed was to be looking at Ivy and remembering activities he and his wife had engaged in. Even so he couldn't help but for the briefest moment wonder if such things would ever come to pass between him and Ivy and he felt terribly lecherous for even the briefest thought of so much as kissing her on the lips.

Luckily the thoughts were thoroughly tucked aside by the time he arrived to Irvingly, the two women waiting for him. He gave a smile and tried to keep those thoughts pushed aside for it was very ungentlemanly to entertain such ideas on her innocence at any time, let alone when he was in her company. So he stepped out from the fireplace and brushed the residual soot off and offered his arm. "The cafe is a short distance away, I've heard." He said, giving a smile. "We can walk at your leisure, of course." He said it easily, showing that he was in no great rush to get to Chance L'Amour. After all if they wished to take in the sights of Irvingly he was all but too happy to oblige.

When they started on their walk and exited the casino where they'd come in at he turned his attention to Ivy. "Have you been well, Miss O'Neill?" He inquired with genuine interest. For most it may seem like idle pleasantries but Silas was genuinely interested in how Ivy had been doing. He found that he didn't at all mind the idea of idle chit chat for hearing her voice at all was pleasant to him. To be told of how her days went, as well, was a delight.

  

[Ivy Scrivenshaft]

Though infinitely distracted by Silas’ presence at her side, and the residual thrill she still felt from their momentary contact, Ivy spared a long moment to glance around their surroundings. The last few months had been the first time she had spent more than a day at a given time in Hogsmeade, but Irvingly was still unfamiliar to her. It was brighter than she had imagined: Ivy had hardly imagined squalor but without the daily aid of magic to enhance the aesthetic appeal of the town (as was the case in Hogsmeade) she hadn’t expected it to be quite so clean. Still, it was closer in appearance to Oldham than the magically pristine Hogsmeade and Ivy felt immediately at home. She took Silas’ arm with great gratitude, ignoring the familiar shock of pleasure at the contact, and entreated her Aunt to do the same. She did, with apparent great reluctance, and Ivy smothered a small smile as they began to stroll.

“Quite well,” she murmured softly, gladly returning her attention to Silas. She refused to be the silly sort of girl who read desperately into a man’s body language but he seemed infinitely more at ease in her presence than he had been when they had first met and, indeed, eager to impress her Aunt. The latter was particularly telling and felt a swell of giddy energy inside. “My internship keeps me quite busy, but I would rather it be that way: with more trust comes more responsibility, and my supervisor seems quite content to give me more of both.”

She applied, rather unthinkingly, a soft squeeze of his arm. “And how have you been?” I’ve missed you went unspoken, but Ivy was certain Silas would hear it nonetheless.

  

[Silas Scrivenshaft]

Never did it fail to cause a smile on his lips to simply hear her voice. It was a lovely voice, he thought, and the words spoken came out showing the intelligence she had - something he very much appreciated about her. He was glad to hear that she'd been well. For surely she was deserving of all the happiness in the world, as far as he was concerned. She was a brilliant, lovely and utterly enthralling young woman and he very much thought it would be quite a horrid thing to think she were unhappy in any aspect of her life. It was almost amusing to him that already he wanted her happiness but perhaps that was how things were when one found themselves infatuated with something, a fact that was becoming rapidly more apparent to Silas.

"I am very well, and infinitely pleased to hear that your internship is going well." He smiled at her, taking a moment to simply appreciate how beautiful she truly was. "There is no feeling quite like doing something you love - no matter how simple it may seem to others. Not, however, that being a healer is simple at all. It's very admirable that you would want to go into such a career." Indeed, it was very admirable. He was not so sure he could handle caring for the sick and yet Miss O'Neill found that she'd rather do that than go out into society and hunt for a husband, something that was a very attractive trait to him.

Moving on from that line, he looked forward again as not to stare and spoke again: "I myself have been quite well. I've been experimenting with making colored parchment and even different ways of making it. I thought for the younger people that colored parchment in journals would be something fun." He was not so skilled at parchment making, however, that it did not come with some finagling. "But aside from that it's been work as usual. I've been spending most of my time in my shop, making quills and whatnot." He spent entirely too much time in his shop and since meeting Ivy he'd been getting back into that habit. Perhaps he didn't realize it but somewhere deep down the idea of having to look for a wife seemed pointless because he clearly wanted Ivy to fill that role.

  

[Ivy Scrivenshaft]

Biting back a smile at the thought of Silas cloistered in his shop with his quills and books—she had nothing but admiration for his dedication to his work—Ivy gave her companion’s arm a surreptitious squeeze. It was subtle enough that her Aunt would miss the gesture but she hoped that Silas would feel it; she certainly had. Every touch was practically electric and Ivy could feel her cheeks burn, but she refused to get ahead of herself. She would gladly marry Silas right now if he asked her, but not without her father’s permission and…well, she imagined that would be rather difficult to procure. Her father was a good man and she loved him dearly but he was a stubborn git—almost as stubborn as she was, and he would make Silas jump through hoops before he deigned to give him her hand. Her mother on the other hand would be thrilled: Ivy didn’t care a jot for Mr. Scrivenshaft’s money but her mother certainly would and she almost groaned at the thought of that first meeting.

Perhaps she was underestimating her parents? Her father might welcome Silas freely into the family and her mother might go ten minutes or more without asking him precisely how much money he had, but she doubted it.

Merlin, help her.

“Will you show me some of your experiments?” she asked softly. “I can’t think of a better way to spend one of my free days.” She faltered, her voice somewhat more tentative. “If I won’t be a bother, of course.”

  

[Silas Scrivenshaft]

Silas felt exceedingly ridiculous at the excitement he gained from her mere squeeze of his arm. It was subtle but he'd noticed it. He was hyper-aware of everything in her presence. Every hint of emotion in her voice, every gesture she made and the subtle nuances in the shifts of her expressions. He'd never thought that after Callista he could be so entirely entranced by a woman and yet Ivy had completely ensnared him. She was a delight to be around and that she was willing to grace him with her presence made him feel as though he were the luckiest man in the world. After all was it not every mans dream to gain the attentions of a fair young woman once they'd secured their career? And his career was certainly secure.

Her interest in his work only helped further his infatuation with her and as soon as she'd asked if he'd show her his experiments, he beamed. He was not so silly as to think most women would indulge his hobby-turned-profession. It was an odd thing to be quite so passionate about and yet she never seemed to give off the impression that she found him silly at all. He didn't know how that was possible - in comparison to the course she'd set for herself his passions seemed utterly ridiculous. And yet she'd always listened with a smile on her face, seeming interested in what he did and for that he was eternally grateful.

That she seemed at all tentative in her last statement was strange to him. For how could she think that he'd ever deny her company? "Miss O'Neill, nothing would bring me more pleasure than to show you some of my work." He said it reassuringly. Any man would jump at the chance to spend time in her company and though he perhaps was not quite so lewd in his interest he was in fact still a man and therefore very keen on the idea of spending time in the presence of a beautiful young woman. "If you've interest in my craft then I would be all too pleased to show you some of the things I work on."

  

[Ivy Scrivenshaft]

Ivy smiled. It seemed only fitting that she and Silas should spend as much time as possible in his shop; it was where they had first met after all, and Ivy’s heart warmed at the thought of that day. It was the briefest of meetings—she had spent barely ten minutes in Silas’ shop, but she had left with a feeling of longing, of missing someone dear to her heart, and she had spent the rest of the day wondering precisely how to see him again without appearing…well, creepy! Meeting him again had been the most wonderful coincidence and she would never take anything for granted again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her Aunt’s expression and blushed lightly as she loosened her grip on Silas’ arm. “Perhaps I could help you sometimes?” she offered softly. “I’m afraid I’d be quite useless at first but with some training I’m sure I could be of some use.”

And perhaps Minnie could help too? It would do her friend good to get out of that house and the occasional hour helping Mr. Scrivenshaft was hardly social suicide!