Love from Hate

Chapter Three:
Christmas Eve

It was a crisp, chilly morning in mid December. Christmas was only a week in a half away, and the excitement of the holiday had overtaken the students. One morning, while eating breakfast, Alexandre's tawny owl, Maxime, delivered him a letter. He turned the envelope over and was mildly surprised to see the Argonian family seal stamped onto the back.

Alexandre glanced around the Hall. His companion, Leonardo, was feeling ill that morning, so he ate alone. It had been a month since the disastrous love potion fiasco. He had tried to corner Isabelle several times to try and explain, but to no avail. She turned up her nose and downright snubbed him. On the surface, she seemed not to care about how she hurt him with her actions.

Of course, the whole school knew of this little escapade. Alexandre would hear students gossiping about this when they thought he wasn't around. How surprised their faces looked when they discovered he'd heard every word!

Swallowing a bit of plain bread, he washed it down with pumpkin juice before opening the letter. Once opened, he read the letter silently.

Dear Master Alexandre Malfoy,
The Argonian family would be honoured
if you would be so kind as to grace us
with your presence this Christmas holiday.

Sincerely Yours,
Vincent Argonian

Alexandre folded the letter back up and stuffed it into his pocket. He chewed his bread in silence, brooding over what to do. If he refused, he feared of falling in the bad graces of Isabelle's father. If he accepted, he would be stuck with Isabelle for two weeks. Normally, this wouldn't be a bad thing, but considering how she hated him at the moment.... He sighed in frustration, not knowing what to do.

While Alexandre was brooding, he felt someone's eyes on him. He looked up to see Isabelle peering at him from across the Hall. He smirked slightly when he caught her gaze, causing her to blush and look down.

"I see they've mended their quarrel,"

he noted, watching the way Kate and Issy talked animatedly. His cheeks flushed a bit when he noticed Thomas Potter sitting with them.

Alexandre couldn't seem to banish the image of Isabelle's face after he had kissed Katharine from his mind. Not a day went by when he didn't wonder why she had looked so hurt. He felt terribly about that, of course, but it was cause enough to wonder. Did she really care under the façade of good manners? As of late, he felt on edge all the time, especially during Transfiguration and DADA.

Suddenly, Alexandre made up his mind. He would spend the holidays at Isabelle's, and while there, try to make up with her. It was at least worth a shot, and she wouldn't be able to avoid him all the time. Not like in school, anyhow.

Pulling out a scrap of parchment and a quill from his robe pocket, he quickly scribbled down a response.

Lord Vincent Argonian,
I would be honoured to join you
and your family during
the Christmas holidays.

Sincerely,
Alexandre Malfoy

He folded the letter carefully, writing Vincent Argonian's name on the front. He stood, and made his way out of the Hall and headed for the Owlrey, robes billowing out behind him. He was so preoccupied; he did not notice that someone's eyes were on him as he left.

Isabelle bit her lip, watching Alexandre leave. Instead of making her pine for him, his handsome face made her angry. 'Twas not fair, at least in her mind, for someone who could do such detestable things to make her knees go weak. She didn't really know the whole of Alexandre's little scheme. She knew that he had slipped a love potion into Katharine's drink, and from what little she'd heard from him, it had been meant for her. That idea was just as disgusting to Isabelle. Forced into marriage was bad enough. Forced to love him.... He must be a monster to wish for false love.

Katharine sighed softly, not wanting to disturb Isabelle. Their friendship was back on solid ground, and she wanted it to stay that way. The weeks following Alexandre's little prank had been the most humiliating and lonely ones of Kate's life. She was so ashamed that just thinking about it brought the sting of tears to her eyes.

***

The last week of school before holidays seemed to race by. On the very last day, people rushed through the hallways, carrying gifts for their friends. Isabelle gave Kate a necklace that protected the wearer from minor poisons and potions. Kate gave Isabelle a book on time travel, a subject that had long fascinated her. The two girls parted tearfully in the entrance hall, with promises to owl each other.

Isabelle was left to wait there, wrapped in a beautiful velvet cloak spelled for warmth. Most of the students had carriages picking them up, so she wasn't alone. She was speaking with Dahlia, a girl she knew from a few of her classes, when a light hand tapped her shoulder.

Glancing up, Isabelle saw that it was her old nursemaid, Bridgett. With unrestrained joy, Isabelle stood and hugged the older woman. "Oh, 'tis wonderful to see thee again!" she cried.

Stepping back, Isabelle pulled out her wand, and tapped her trunk twice, murmuring a spell. It vanished with a slight popping sound. Isabelle had sent it to the carriage.

"Lady Isabelle...Where is the boy?" Bridgett said, looking around curiously.

"What boy?" Isabelle asked distractedly, heading towards the door.

"Hello... is it time to leave?" Alexandre strode towards them, a guarded smile on his face.

"I am leaving now," Isabelle replied shortly, turning away.

"Ah...Where is the carriage?" He asked cordially, offering her his arm.

"What in Merlin's name art thou blathering about, Alexandre Malfoy?" Isabelle demanded shrilly, praying it wasn't what she thought.

"Thy father invited me to say with thee over the holidays..." Alexandre trailed off, realizing that she really hadn't known. He had thought her father would have told her.

Isabelle looked as though she was trying to decide whether to slap him, cry or laugh. She was acutely aware of the fact that silence had frozen the room, and that all the students were staring curiously at them. So she slipped once more behind the formidable shield of manners, and took Alexandre's arm.

"Come, Bridgett. We should be getting on. My lord father will be wondering what the delay is," she said imperiously, and swept out the door, Alexandre barely keeping pace.

The carriage ride was not long, though to Isabelle it seemed to last days. Bridgett sat up from with the driver, and so Isabelle was forced to sit in the back, alone with Alexandre for the first time in months. He plied her with questions, and even tedious gossip, but she remained silent.

Alexandre finally gave up, content to sit and watch her as she stared fixedly out the window. The pale winter sunlight lit her dark curls, making her dark skin glow, and sharpening the beauty of her features. Her soft mouth was set in a firm line, and her hazel eyes were distant. Alexandre wondered desperately if Isabelle would ever look upon him with happiness in those eyes, and a smile curving her lips.

"Wouldst thou care for a portrait?" a cold voice cut into his thoughts, snapping him out of his trance. He realized that Isabelle had finally spoken to him.

"I apologize to my lady for my ignorance, but a portrait of what?" Alexandre asked, politely bewildered by what she had said.

"It would last longer," Isabelle said snootily, not looking at him. Alexandre sighed and rested his head against the side of the carriage, closing his eyes. On some days he could handle her sarcasm and rude comments, but not on this particular day.

There was an awkward silence that lasted for about five minutes before Alexandre worked up the courage to speak again.

"My lady, we will see each other every day for two weeks. I suggest thee do not start off on the wrong foot with me," he said coldly, opening his eyes once more. The expression on his face was quite unreadable, yet his tone had said it all.

Isabelle did not have time to react, for she felt the carriage come to a slow stop. The door was flung open. Alexandre exited the carriage first, and then stiffly helped Isabelle down. She could feel his tension as they made their way into the huge mansion that belonged to the Argonians.

Once inside, her mother and father greeted her joyously. Alexandre dropped her arm, and Isabelle did not miss his quiet sigh of relief. Alexandre shook hands with Vincent Argonian, thanking him for allowing him to stay at the Argonians' mansion during the holiday.

"Frederick!" Vincent called, clapping his hands twice. In an instant, an aged man stood before Vincent. He was the Argonian's butler. He was a tall fellow with graying hair. "Take the young Master Malfoy to his chambers," he commanded.

Frederick bowed and muttered, "Yes, my lord."

Vincent turned to Alexandre, training his gaze on the younger fellow. "You will want to freshen up before dinner tonight. It is at seven, and please be punctual," he paused, as if trying to remember an important detail that he had forgotten. "Oh yes, your parents will be arriving here on New Years Eve, in time for our annual gala," he added, smiling at Alexandre. He managed a weak smile before being whisked away by Frederick.

***

Dinner went smoothly enough, even though the two were ignoring each other as much as possible. They were able to get through the awkward questions well enough. The love potion disaster was not mentioned, for which Alexandre was grateful.

"Let us retire to the music room, where Isabelle may sing us the aria she has been working on," her mother suggested, gazing fondly at her daughter.

"Mother!" Isabelle hissed, her cheeks flushing a deep scarlet. The last thing she wanted to do was to sing in front of her fiancée, who wasn't talking to her.

"A fine idea!" her father chimed in, beaming with pride.

"Oh, no, really, it's alright. I wish to retire to my room. I am not feeling well from the journey," Alexandre cut in, seeing how distressed Isabelle was at the thought of having to sing in front of him. "I will see thee in the morning. Good night, Isabelle," he said. Leaning over, he dutifully kissed her on the cheek. After straightening up, he turned on his heel and strode briskly down the corridor, around the corner, and out of sight.

Isabelle followed her mother and father into the music room, banishing all thoughts of Alexandre. Her parents would want to make sure that she did not slack in her studies of music and the arts, of household chores, and other such things that might please her future husband. That thought made her feel oddly rebellious and she suddenly wished to have the voice of a crone, just so that if Alexandre were listening, he would be appalled by it.

Vincent led his wife Elspeth over to the small chaise lounge next to the harpsichord; Isabelle sat down on the elegant bench. She flexed her fingers, and placed them gently on the keys. Then she began to play, the beautiful accompaniment flowing gracefully. Her voice rose over the humming sound of the harpsichord, sweet and clear as a bell. She sang in Italian, words of love and devotion.

Out in the hallway, Alexandre stopped, transfixed by the sound of Isabelle's voice. He knew very little Italian, but the emotion in her voice was clear. He sighed softly, waiting until the song was over before heading up to his room.

***

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Isabelle stumbled out of bed and over to her vanity, picking up her brush. Brushing out her dark curls, she wandered over to the window. Drawing back the heavy curtains, she sat in window-seat, transfixed by the fairyland outside. During the night, it had snowed-- the first snow of the season. Frosty powder blanketed the familiar grounds, the trees of the orchard bearing white loads instead of ripe fruit.

Isabelle hurried to dress, not waiting for her maid to wake. She pulled on her riding breeches, and then over that her riding dress. It was dark green, and laced up the front, so that she could do the ties herself. It had discreet slits in the front and back so that if she chose to, she could ride astride, the way a man would. Then she tied her hair back into a braid, grabbed her wand, and slipped silently out the door.

Through the hallways Isabelle crept, making sure to be extra quiet when passing her parents chambers. Passing the guest suite, she hesitated. The polite thing to do would be to invite Alexandre to go riding with her. But then again, as he wasn't necessarily awake, it might not be considered rude for her to go alone... With that in mind, she headed down the hallway, humming under her breath.

"Where art thou going?" Alexandre asked, leaning in the doorway to his room.

"Blast!"

Isabelle thought, and turned around with a smile. "Good morrow, my lord. I am going flying. I thought 'twould be splendid to see the grounds again. It seems much longer than three months away." Her smile grew stiff as she added, "Perhaps thou wouldst care to join me?"

"'Twould be my pleasure, dear lady. I shall meet thee in the entrance hall." Alexandre smiled at Isabelle, and went back into his room.

Isabelle stomped downstairs, not caring now if she woke her parents. Her peaceful morning had been ruined already. She went into the cloakroom and pulled on her favorite cloak. Then she got her broom, and headed to the entrance hall.

Alexandre was already there, broom in hand. Isabelle shot him a stiff smile, wishing for the millionth time that he wasn't so handsome. It would be easier to hate him if he were ugly.

Alexandre smiled back at her, bowing gracefully. "My lady, thou looketh lovely this fine morn," he complimented her, causing her to blush. Isabelle could feel her heartbeat start to quicken, and mentally cursed herself for allowing herself to act like this around him. After all, she didn't love him.

Isabelle cleared her throat, and looked at him pointedly. "My good sir, I would be much obliged if thee would kindly step out of the way, so as I may open this door."

"I could not, in good conscience, let thee open the door. 'Twould be-" he began, but was cut off as Isabelle pushed him out of the way as best she could. She realized this was terribly unladylike, but at the moment didn't care.

Alexandre stumbled a bit, then regained himself. He watched Isabelle struggle with the door for a brief moment, then made up his mind to help her. The door was old; over one hundred years old, in fact. It was huge, towering up ten feet off the ground. It was made of solid oak, and was extremely heavy. It could not be opened by magic for security reasons.

Alexandre stood behind her, pulling at the door handle. Isabelle was uncomfortable with his close proximity, but decided that it could not be helped. She tugged at the handle with him, and they wrested it open. Isabelle staggered back against Alexandre, who wrapped his arms around her to steady her. She let him hold her for a moment, before rational thought broke through and she pulled away, throwing him a glare for good measure.

Isabelle led the way outside. She stopped to fix her skirts, biting back a sigh of irritation when she realized that she could not fly as a wizard would because Alexandre was there. She let go of her broom so that it hung in midair, and turned to him. "I fly rather fast. Hopefully, thou shalt not act overly tardy-gaited today."

Alexandre merely smiled, and helped her mount her broom. Inside, however, he was seething. He tried so hard to make her at least forgive him, at least treat him with courtesy, and she acted like he was a worm.

Isabelle took off like a rocket the instant she was settled on her broom, not waiting for Alexandre to mount his. Hovering at least a dozen feet ahead and above him, she turned to raise an eyebrow in his direction. "Art thou joining me or not?" She called mockingly.

Not deigning to answer, Alexandre kicked off the ground, swooping into the air high above her. A mischievous grin crossed Isabelle's face, and she strove to catch up to him. He flew ahead, always slowing so that she could just catch up, and then taking off again. She frowned in annoyance, cursing her skirts that hampered her in her awkward sidesaddle position.

Coming to a decision, Isabelle slowed, hovering in midair. She swung her leg over the broom, and adjusted the split skirt so that she was decent. Then she took off in hot pursuit of Alexandre.

When he turned in his seat to make sure Isabelle wasn't lagging too far behind, Alexandre got the shock of his life. Quiet, reserved Isabelle Argonian was riding a broom astride. While he goggled at her, Isabelle swept by him. "Well," he thought wryly, "She was right about one thing. She does fly rather fast."

The rest of the morning passed in a cheerful blur. Isabelle and Alexandre raced around, and she was even borderline friendly when showing him landmarks on the property. They returned to the castle for lunch, this time to explore the grounds on foot. They seemed to have reached an unspoken truce, for which Alexandre was so grateful that he didn't bother to wonder why.

The rest of the week passed uneventfully, and Isabelle was almost surprised when Christmas Eve arrived. She spent the day with her mother, stringing cranberries to deck their tree. That evening, Isabelle, Alexandre, Elspeth, and Vincent hung the cranberry strings on the tree, and told stories in front of the Yule Log fire.

The next evening, Christmas day, Isabelle curled up in her window-seat. The snow was falling again, and she pressed her forehead against the cool glass, trying to make sense of her feelings. She thought of the past week, and what fun she'd had with Alexandre. It was hard to remember what he had done for her to hate him. She bit her lip, thinking about the gift she had chosen for him. Or rather, the gift her family had chosen for her to give him.

Rising from her seat with a sigh, Isabelle called for her maid. She hurried into Isabelle's bedchamber, and pulled the gown out of her wardrobe. Her parents were hosting a dinner in Alexandre's honor for Christmas. The maid dressed Isabelle silently, double-checking the stays of her corset were laced up tightly, before helping her mistress into the gown. The dress was beautiful, dark green velvet trimmed with gold thread and pearls.

After almost an hour, the gong sounded for dinner. The servants of the household only used this gong on special occasions, to impress the guests.

When Alexandre heard the gong, he shooed his servant away, who had been helping him dress. Giving himself one last once-over in the mirror and adjusting his rather uncomfortable doublet, he smiled to himself and set off towards the dining room.

Once inside the Argonian's lavish dining room, the maid, blushing heavily, showed him to his seat, which was on the right side of Vincent Argonian, who was at the head of the table. Alexandre bowed to the elder man and remained standing. As Isabelle had told him a few days ago, no one sat before the head of the household sat down. Even the servants hovered at attention, waiting until they were dismissed.

Vincent gazed around the room, a contented smile upon his face. He had every right to be happy. Alexandre would be a good match for Vincent's only daughter; that much the old man could tell. Growing up, he and Jacques Malfoy had been like brothers. Both of their parents owned summer homes in the south of France. So, every summer, the boys had been inseparable; during the school year, they kept in contact via owl post. One late summer night, during their teenage years, Jacques and Vincent arranged the marriage of their offspring.

When Jacques's young wife, Marietta, gave birth to their first and only child, Jacques reminded Vincent of the old pact. At that time, he only had a six-year-old son and a pregnant wife. He promised that if the child was a girl, then he would uphold their agreement.

Six months later, Elspeth gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. However, the agreement was not made known to the children until eight years before the wedding. The children were supposed to meet on Alexandre's thirteenth birthday, but Isabelle contracted a violent case of the lung fever a week before the celebration. Every time they were supposed to meet after that, Isabelle pleaded with her father not to rush her.

But, they had overcome these minor obstacles. Isabelle appeared to be happy with the arrangement, which put Vincent's mind at ease.

"Now all I have to do is find that rascal son of mine a wife. Twenty-three is plenty old enough to think about settling down,"

he though distractedly as he took his seat.

***

Dinner passed slowly, though there were no major mishaps. Vincent entertained his family with stories from his childhood. It was not until the last piece of fruitcake had been cleared off the table that Alexandre and Isabelle were dismissed.

Once outside the dining room, Alexandre laid a gentle hand on Isabelle's arm. "Would my lady be so kind as to grace me with her presence in the gardens at half seven? I still have to give thee thy gift."

There was no way to politely avoid his company. Besides, she did need to give him his gift. She held back a sigh, smoothing her skirts so as not to have to look at him. "But of course, if it pleases my lord. Half seven it is." Before leaving, she dipped him a small curtsey. Alexandre was left alone with his thoughts in the corridor.