Cynthia MacLanley

1857: The Promise Kiss

"Cynthia MacLanley...," said Steve Merridew, almost breathless, "you look stunning!"

He was at the bottom of the grand front staircase, leaning against the bottom banister in formal black dress robes. He patted his waxed-down hair and put his hand on his cheek. "I am...amazed!"

"I thin' I'm gunna trip," Cynthia admitted, making her way down the steps with one hand on the rail and the other lifting her skirts. She wore an indigo, very long dress with layers of dark blue skirts falling gracefully from her waist. A silvery-blue shawl topped the shoulder-less dress and matching indigo extra-long gloves. Her blonde hair, almost white from summers of Quidditch practice, was pulled back and dropped in curly tendrils around her face.

Steve extended an arm to her, and she swished her skirts onto the ground floor with a flourish as she touched the bottom step. "Than' yeh fer wai'in', Steve," she said, leaning forward to give him a chaste peck on the cheek.

He moved the arm he had extended to her down to her and slid his other hand to her exposed neck, pulling her mouth to his. He kissed her passionately and openmouthed, pressing his sensuous lips into her trembling ones. He pulled her away, and she kept her blue eyes closed for a moment afterwards. "There's a lot more where that came from," he whispered. "But first, there's this ball thing we have to do."

Cynthia opened her eyes and licked her lips. Steve moved his hand from her neck to his side, and took her arm again with his own. "Shall we, then?" he asked, turning to go to the Great Hall.

They passed other couples and students milling about in the corridors, some speaking German, some conversing in French, and all dressed in dark-colored finery.

"Elle est Parisienne, que pense-tu?" mumbled some Beauxbatons students, pointing to a quite obviously overdressed young girl wearing what looked like a sparkling white crinoline cake.

Steve let Cynthia enter the Great Hall before him, and he followed right behind her. She gasped at the sight of the huge room's walls and floor lit only by a golden glow emanating from the walls and small candles in the branches of massive evergreens interspersed with tiny circular dinner tables. Soft, dreamy instrumental music wafted through the air from a ten-member orchestra playing on a stage on the other side of the hall.

"Look, there's Allie," said Cynthia, pointing a gloved finger towards the red-haired, bespectacled boy sitting by himself by the orchestra. She led Steve through the maze of tables.

"Oh, the bookworm couldn't get himself a girl? That's real surprising," he said, laughing.

"Steve," warned Cynthia, but Allie had seen them. He stood up and pulled out a chair for Cynthia, who sat down with a "Thank yeh". Allie was going to push her in, but Steve had lain a large hand on the back of the chair.

"If you don't mind," said Allie, with a hint of steel in his voice.

"Allow me," replied Steve, even icier.

There was a brief moment where sparks flew between the two boys. Cynthia broke it by announced "Gen'lemin, I kin deh I'meself," and pulling herself in to the table.

Allie sat down on her left and Steve took the seat to her right. Cynthia took up a menu and opened it, hoping to lead the boys away from their sudden outright animosity.

Ever since Cynthia had started courted Steve, Allie had made it obvious that he thought the black-haired boy was a creep. What he didn't know what that Steve thought the same about the skinny, freckled Allie. Cynthia had coped by dividing her academic and Quidditch world between the two oil-and-water boys. Now, she saw that the night would become a battlefield between the two, and that was something she could definitely live without.

~x~

Hot and sweet, Steve pressed her body into his own as they embraced in a deep kiss. Caught up in the passionate moment, surrounded by the perfumy scent of the magic roses, Cynthia felt slightly intoxicated. Focused on Steve's slowly moving along hers, Cynthia didn't notice his hand sliding down the front of her chest until it was almost too late.

"Stop," she said, pulling away and trying to pull his hand away from her torso.

"What's the matter?" he asked, more taunting that concerned.

"Dunt deh tha'," she replied, and he pulled his hand away slowly.

"Cyn-" Steve pleaded.

"Steve, no."

"Alright then," he complied, drawing away from her on the marble bench. "If you won't yield that way-" he suddenly laid her flat on her back, with one hand pressing hard on the base of her throat, so she could neither moved nor scream, "- I'll make you yield in another."

As he moved down onto her, Cynthia gasping for breath and mind racing, all she could realize was the horrible knowledge that she was about to be violated, and that Steve had probably done this before. She closed her eyes, tears leaking out, and she flailed her arms uselessly. Steve fumbled with her stockings, and image of her mother suddenly appeared in her panicking mind.

"Cyn, when yeh git a bi' oldur, yer gunna feend tha' men rilly only wan un thing."

"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF HER, YOU BASTARD!!"

Cynthia opened her eyes to see Allie standing over Steve with his wand pointed straight at the offender's heart. A cold fire blazed in his eyes, the likes of which Cynthia had never seen before. Steve rose up quickly, snarling at the intruder.

"Allie, just because you can't -"

"Shut the hell up, Merridew. Get away from Cynthia, now."

"Think you're so tough now, huh? Why don't you put that stick down and fight me like a man?"

"I wouldn't fight like the dog you are," replied Allie, his jaw set.

"You're not that strong, but that doesn't surprise me." Steve took a step towards him, hands raised in fists. "No wonder Cynthia loves me. You're nothing but a study partner to her, book boy." He jabbed a thick finger into Allie's chest. Allie stood his ground, the wand still aimed at Steve's heart.

"Tha's no' true!" cried Cynthia, having found her voice again. "Will yeh both jus' geh away from meh!"

"Shut up, harlot!" shouted Steve, his blood rising.

"I ne'er wan' the speak the yeh agayn, Steven!" Cynthia shouting, coming to her feet. "Yer a durty pig an' I hope yeh dee fer wha' yeh treed t'night!"

"You!" screamed Steve, turning back to her.

"There's no point in fighting her or me," said Allie, calmly but firmly. "You're going to be expelled for sure. You're of age, too...wouldn't be surprised if you spent some time in Azkaban, too." Allie was obviously bluffing, but Steve had slight look of worry.

"I hate you both," growled Steve, and he spat at Allie. "Have fun with that bitch, and good luck loosening her up." He turned and crashed through the rose garden towards Hogwarts, interrupting busy couples and younger students talking.

"Cyn, are you all right?" asked Allie, tucking his wand into his pocket and making her sit down again on the bench.

"Aye. Jus' shook. Nothin' happen'd, but i'yeh hadn' come...." She didn't complete the thought.

"I'm so sorry."

"Abou' what?"

"I knew he'd try to pull something on you sooner or later. I can't believe I let you court him."

"Yer no' me policemin, Allie. I am me awn pe'son, an' yeh naught anyun' kin tell meh wha' the deh. Dunt beh sorry."

Some time passed in silence. Allie took Cynthia's hands in his own and kissed her fingers. "Cynthia, I have to tell you something." She looked at him, the half-moon's light dimly lighting his face, and he took off his glasses and drew a shaky breath. "We've been friends for four -four and a half- years. Best, inseperable, though-it-all friends, right?" She nodded. "For...for a year -more, actually, I...I have been...been thinking." He stopped, trying to form his thoughts.

"Yeah, an'?" prompted Cynthia. "Yeh deh a lo'a thinkin', yeh know."

"Cynthia, I love you." He looked down at the ground, ashamed. "It's useless, I-"

It all came in a flash to Cynthia. The hours of conversations in the Common Room. The dozens of letter through summer times, all saved in a box under her bed. The awkward, cute way Allie always congratulated her after Quidditch games. The bumps in Allie's nose. The years of memories. The way he had boldly stood his ground, risked his life even, for her honor. And then, Cynthia realized it.

"-I love yeh, too." She smiled and looked into his eyes, blue glass meeting blue glass. He returned the smile and inched in closer.

"Then...," he whispered, now a millimeter from her mouth. She turned away.

"Allie...I can't. It's teh soon."

"Do you love me?"

She took his hands this time, and placed his fingertips on her sternum. "I love yeh 'ere." She moved his hands to her forehead. "But I hurt 'ere."

"I...I want to take your pain away," he replied, knowing he sounded stupid.

"Onley I kin deh tha'." She let go off his hands and kissed him softly on the forehead. A small silver star appeared on his brow for an instant, and then faded. "Tha's a Promise Kiss. Me mum taugh' tha' teh meh, i's ol' Pict magic. I'ill seh i' on yeh 'til I complete me promise. I promise tha' I'ill love yeh. Jus' give meh teem."

He nodded, putting on his glasses, and he put his arm around her waist and held her right hand with his free one. They looked up at the stars and the night sky, and the Promise Kiss on Allie's forehead shined brighter to both of them than the moon.