Screw Conventionality

Ksenia lifted her hand to hide a yawn as she paused at the top of the staircase. Stars shined through the window above the front door, their presence still visible as the sun prepared to make its ascend and to announce the beginning of a new day to the most western part of Russia.

The witch rubbed the tiredness from her neck as she descended the stairs slowly, her eyes blinking every step, as she moved down towards the ground floor. It was just past five and she had barely gotten any sleep last night. Going to bed at one, as she had been doing recently, was finally beginning to take its toll on her. She had barely been able to get an hour’s sleep, tossing and turning in her comfortable bed, overtired. After four hours of trying, the Slushatel had had enough and rose, donning a dark purple silk dressing gown over her nightgown and making her way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee to wake her up.

The marble tiles that covered the floor of the foyer were cold against the girl’s bare feet, but she barely noticed, her mind half asleep at that point. The doors of the dining room squeaked as Ksenia pushed them opened, grimacing at the noise. It had been just over two weeks since the house was bought. The actual purchase of the place had been legalised within one day, to the Slushatel’s great surprise. Though she supposed it did make some sense. The Raskes were known landowners and a purchase like this was a very simple one for them.

The witch paused once again briefly, this time at the dining table when she spotted a handful of drawings that her niece had completed the day before. A smile flickered over her face as she picked up one of the sheets of paper. This particular one depicted a few unicorns of different colours. The little girl has started to become more cooperative. Though still very quiet for a child so young, she would leave her room when Ksenia asked and do some things such as draw or play outside on the playground. The witch knew that it would be a long process, turning her back into a relatively normal child. Too many worries have been places on Cordelia’s fragile shoulders already.

The prefect was distracted from her thoughts quite suddenly as something soft brushed against her ankle. “Ebony!” she exclaimed in a whisper swooping sown to pick up the small leopard cub that she could hold with one hand. The kitten meowed as its run was cut short and flayed its little paws, trying to get back to the ground.

“Where is your mother?” she asked Ebony sternly as if the cub could answer before shaking her head and tucking the leopard against her chest, her fingers stroking its head fondly.

“You should be sleeping,” Ksenia continued talking to the little furball as she walked further and into the kitchen, going to the fridge and extracting a carton of milk from it. Ebony only meowed in reply, settled quite comfortably against the Slushatel’s body heat.

“Here.” She set the kitten back down on the ground before pouring some milk into a bowl for the little cub. Ebony meowed up at her once again, before following her nose to the food that was offered to her, happily lapping it up.

The witch straightened her back, returning the milk to the fridge before seeking out a pot to brew some coffee in. Several minutes later found the girl standing in front of the stove with the delicious smells of coffee carrying through most of the lower level of the house. Ksenia closed her eyes and breathed it in, the smell alone giving her more energy, the energy that she would need to get through another long and full day.

Silas sat in the study, reading a new volume of moderate interest. Mostly, he was skimming for any new and effective techniques in dragon training. There was none. The man had seen it all before and mastered that which was of any use.

He had heard the activity in the house, of course. The footsteps indicating that it was Ksenia, barefoot, most likely. The murmur of her voice carried just enough for him to catch her tone. She was addressing the smaller feline. It was the only time she spoke in such a manner.

Shutting the book and setting it aside, Silas rose from his seat and wended his way towards the kitchen. The man leaned in the doorway overlooking the kitchen, arm folded over his chest.

"If you slept at a decent hour, you'd have little need to consume quite so much coffee," he pointed out. He was already wide awake and fully clothed for the day.

At the sound of Silas's voice, Ksenia turned her head an blinked at him sleepily a few times. "I had to write a few essays," she said simply, her tone quiet. The fact was, she didn't get to start on her homework before Cordelia was asleep. She needed to to spend as much time as she could with the girl at this stage. She new exactly what the child felt like.

She turned her frame back to the coffee pot inn front of herself. "Would you like some?"

"I realize the importance of nurturing young Cordelia, but that should not prove to your own detriment," Silas said. "It is unnecessary for you every spare moment to spent on. She is child; she must be neither neglected nor overprotected. You will do her no favors by constantly hovering over her. Furthermore, the elf is more than capable of entertaining her whilst you spare some time to focus on your studies."

He moved away from the doorway. "I suppose there is no harm in a cup," he agreed. "I rather enjoy the bitter taste."

"She has only been here for two weeks," Ksenia said as she retrieved two cups. "She still needs to get used to living here. It's not going to be like this all the time." The young witch poured to coffee before turning and placing them on the table. She took one of the seats, still tired from the lack of sleep and lifted the cup of steaming coffee to her lips. It tasted good, just pure coffee. She didn't add anything to either of the cups, she never liked to dilute the taste of it herself and from what Silas said, she concluded that they had the same opinions on coffee.

She glanced up at him from her cup curiously. "Did you even sleep last night?" It was very early in the morning, the sun have not even come up yet, and she was sure that she has not seen him yesterday, though these days with the amount of attention she had been paying to his whereabouts, she wouldn't even be able to tell if he was home or not half the time she as here.

"Which is why I mention it now," Silas replied. "I don't expect my words to have any real effect for at least another two." He accepted the coffee with a polite nod, raising the cup to his lips and taking a meditative sip.

The man gave a faint smirk at her query. "Not even married and already asking after my well-being? My, my, I find myself most flattered," he said. "My rest was clearly far more sufficient than your own."

Ksenia only nodded her head slightly at those words, her mind still not letting her let go of her niece. It was the only memory of her sister that she had left. She needed to keep her safe.

The witch raised her eyebrows at him in amusement. "It is only the polite thing to do. We live in the same house. Would you rather we behaved like strangers in these circumstances?"

Silas regarded the girl--woman, really; she had reached her majority, after all. The nuances of her personality intrigued him. Well, as much as anything really intrigued him.

Reaching out a hand, he lay it atop of hers, the touch light. His gaze focused on hers. "Because it is the polite thing to do?" he echoed. "Is that the only reason? And here I was merely teasing you."

Touch turning caressing, Silas lifted her arm and pulled it towards him. Hand sliding up the sleeve of her dressing gown, he pressed a warm kiss to the inside of her wrist, followed by another. Then, his teasing manner abruptly evaporated and holding her arm with his other hand, he pushed her sleeve up to her elbow. His gaze took in her arm, then snapped to her face.

"What happened?" Silas demanded.

"Need it have any other reason?" Ksenia asked, her eyebrows still arched as a smirk played on her lips.

Her eyes lowered to their joined hands as her caressed her skin. She was not sure what to expect from the man when it came to intimate touches. When they would come or what he would allow her to do without pulling himself away. This time she merely watched him. A relaxed expression settled itself on her features. It felt nice to be touched so gently for someone for a change.

His question came unexpectedly. the girl glanced down to her arm herself, cursing under her breath as as she saw the scars. She forgot about the potion today. Her new life seemed to be making her more tired than she thought. She tried to extract her arm from his grip but he wouldn't let her. She never liked to show anyone these scars.

The girl sighed and looked up at him finally. "These are some of the gifts my first husband gave to me." Her words were bitter and cold, the subject was something she always liked to avoid.

Silas looked back down only after she had replied. Still gripping her wrist, hold gentle but firm, he stoically traced the scars which marred her flesh. He had no doubt that were others to match. In his search her, he had learned also of this husband.

Finally finished with his inspection, he loosened his hold, but only so that he could cup her hand between both of his. He pressed his lips against the back of her fingers before his eyes once more sought her face.

"Tell me," Silas said. "Tell me what he did to you."

Ksnia shivered from his touches. They were so gentle, something that she was not used to. Though they did feel odd, she knew that she would be enjoying them if not for the topic at hand.

"What do you want me to tell you?" she asked rather coldly. "How he beat me until every part of my body was bruised? he used a knife to cut my arms just for his own enjoyment and made sure that I would never be able to get rid of the scars. He used the Cruciatus Curse ones." the words were blunt and sharp, a layer of ice covered the witch's eyes. It was probably the most effective thing that kept her guarded from being hurt further.

He was untouched by the acerbity of her words and manner, gaze steady. Still holding her hand between his own, he calmly pressed, "Was there anything else? Any other way that he harmed you?" The only sign that he was anything but passive was the ticking of a muscle along his jaw.

Silas lightly massaged her hand, almost soothing as he calmly (to all appearances) awaited her answer.

Ksenia pulled her hand away from his grip, his touch was too soothing. She did not want to be pitied. His whole demeanor felt too soft for her liking. "He raped me," the words slid out far too smoothly from her mouth considering their full meaning. "It was not forceful." She was smart enough to comply to Abraxas's wishes at that time. She knew that he could have hurt her much more badly than he did if she did not use her mind.

She looked at Silas coldly, her whole frame rigid. Her hands found their way to her lap so he wouldn't touch them.

Silas did not try to prevent her from withdrawing her hand, nor did his gaze waver. For a moment, he gave no response, save for the ticking of that muscle. Then, he rose, actions slow and deliberate, easy to predict. Grabbing her chair, he pulled it away from the table and turned it so she was facing him. He knelt on the floor in front of her, hands resting on either side of the seat without touching her.

"No one," he vowed, eyes laced with steel, "will ever hurt you again. If anyone so much as even considers it, I will kill them."

Ksenia observed him, her gaze still cold as he rose. The smallest of gasps left her lips as he maneuvered her chair. Her expression remained just as cool an unemotional as he spoke.

"I know," she said softly. Her own hand rose, a bit hesitantly at first but than more surely. Her fingers traced his jawline, feeling the hardness of the muscles. "He is in the past and he is dead," she stated, her words more to reassure herself than him. "And he should stay dead. I don't want to talk about him again."

Only then did Silas remove his hands from the chair seat, reaching up and stroking her hair back from her face. "I know," he echoed. "I will never ask you to speak of him in future." He stayed like that a moment, gently brushing her hair. Then, he pulled away, the moment over.

He had needed to know, he told himself. It might very well be that he did. The uncertainty lay in why precisely had needed to know. To ascertain the damage done her, and thereby avoid triggering unpleasant memories in future? That would be logical. That was even plausible. Having no better reason, he accepted that as the explanation.

"You coffee has likely gotten cold," Silas noted.

Ksenia gave him a small smile. "Thank you." In a way, it was good that she had told him. Probably better that she had done so at the beginning.

Her head lowered slightly as he stroked her hair, the gesture almost submissive. The tenderness of his touches was hard not to enjoy. The witch felt so safe and calm when she was with him. She couldn't even remember the last time she felt like that. It was becoming very hard not to give in to his will.

How to respond to his touches still remained a question, however. No move on her part was acknowledged, and it was very hard to guess when his would come. The only thing to do now was to observe.

"Hmmm," she stood herself from the chair that he had turned around, turning to pick up her half empty cup of coffee. "I suppose I could make some more." She didn't feel so tired anymore though. "Or we can have some breakfast." She wandered to the fridge, opening it to study it's contents. A moment later though she was turning back to face him, a slight frown on her forehead. "What do you eat for breakfast?"

Having developed a habit from a young age to always be aware of what was going on around her, even if she was asleep. Any sound was out of place, not what she was use to, she would awake almost immediately. It had cause many problems within her first few weeks moving to this place - the noises were not the same as the orphanage, and her little over active mind was alive with trying to assess which sounds were safe, and which she should worry about.

Those days had passed, she was use to the noises that were in the house, such as the sounds of her aunt moving about. However, the added voice of her guardian, Silas was enough of a difference in sound that it woke the young girl out of her peaceful slumber.

For a long while she refused to awake. She had decided that the voices were safe enough, so merely hugged Bubba closer to herself, and attempted to fall back asleep, but the sounds, light as they were, persisted. She could not relax with them going on.

And finally, she realized she was thirsty.

Pulling herself out of her bed, Bubba under one are, a smaller blanket curled under the other, Cordelia, clad in pale green footy-pajamas, she struck quietly out of her room and into the hall. Turning into the kitchen and stopping just inside the door way, quietly blinking at the two occupants that were already in it.

Standing like that, she was deathly silent until someone noticed her; even then, when she spoke, her voice was a quiet little peep, "Can I h've a glass of, j'ice, Pwease?"

"Breakfast would be lovely," Silas replied, "though, I've no preference as to what we have. You needn't cook yourself, if you don't want. Mitzy is more than capable and willing to do so."

The man inclined his head as the tell-tale sound of little feet reached his ears. A small smile - one reserved almost exclusively for the girl - pulled at his features as the child appeared in the doorway.

"Good morning, Miss Cordelia," he greeted softly. He had leaned back against the end of the counter. As Ksenia was already standing in the door to the refrigerator, he left it for her to fulfill the child's request. "And how did you and Mr. Wilson sleep last night?" The man always addressed the child and her bear formally, though oddly, such measures didn't convey the distance that some might think. On the contrary, the way he spoke, it sounded more like a pet name.

The witch turned back toe the contents of the fridge, studying it as she thought. "I haven't cooked in a long time, but breakfast should not be heard to accomplish," she decided as she reached for the eggs. They were in the kitchen already after all. There was little reason to call the house elf at that point. It was rare for the young witch to stay at the house long enough to share breakfast with her niece and fiance, having to go back to school so her absence there would not be noted.

Her hand was already outstretched to retrieve something when when she heard the quiet voice of the little girl. "Good morning, Cordelia," she turned, smiling warmly at the child. Her own demeanor changed slightly at the appearance of her niece. It was so strange how many things changed when one lived in the same house with a small child.

"Juice? I am sure we still have some," she said as she turned her gaze back to the fridge. Sure enough there was bottle of the apple juice that Cordelia liked standing in the upper level of the fridge. Moving to take a cup from one of the shelves above the counter, Ksenia filled half of the cup with the drink.

She walked over to the child, scrunching down in front of her to give her the cup. "Would you like to have breakfast with us? Or would you rather go back to bed. It's still early," she said softly with a small smile.

When Ksenia actually took a moment to think about what was happenig, the only conclusion that she could come up with at that point was how odd everything was. In all the time that she had, she would never picture herself about to cook breakfast for herself, the man she was to marry as well as the child that they have adopted. She did not think on the matter for long though, not close to long enough to realise how much she was actually changing, before she focused on the little girl in front of her again.

Ducking her head almost shyly, the girl gave something like a half smile and pulled the bear closer to her, the action on of affection and not comfort as it usually was, "Good t'ank-you."

It was odd how out of everything in her life, the things that had stuck with the girl was a deep need to be wary of every person around her, and an equally deep need to be polite.

Taking the offered juice in both hands, she held it carefully to her lips, taking a healthy sip before lowering it again, and taking the time to debate her aunts offer. Just what did she want to do. Slowly her gaze flicked from the woman in front of her, to the man on the counter and then back again before finally settling on Bubba.

"Bubba's hungary*."

*I actually meant the typo this time

"Is he?" Silas queried. "We had best get him fed then, hadn't we? And what about our Miss Cordelia? Is she hungry as well?" It sounded every bit an honest question. He wanted her to start to learn to speak for herself without relying on the bear as a crutch.

"What does Mr. Wilson and Miss Cordelia prefer for breakfast? Your Aunt Ksenia and I can't seem to make up our minds." He crouched down close to the girl, cupping a hand beside his mouth to whisper loudly to her, "I think you'd have a better idea than your aunt, anyway."

Ksenia stayed crouched together with Silas, not saying anything for a few moments, only blinking at the pair. It wasn't the first time she had seen this side of the man, but at that moment it felt as if they were completely normal, yet the witch knew that none of them were.

"Hey!" she said lightly, her eyebrows arching,her expression one of amusement as she looked at Silas before returning her gaze back to Cordelia. "I have excellent breakfast ideas," she stated, huffing as she rose to her feet, though the smile soon returned to her face. She moved back towards the other side of the kitchen to give the two some space. Opening the fridge once again Ksenia took out some more things that they would need. Bacon, milk, butter: they would definetly need those.

"Well?" she turned back toward the pair after giving them a couple minutes to talk. She placed her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrows, the whole demeanor was a bit dramatic. It was getting hard for the witch to stop herself from laughing. "What's the verdict?"

Head bowed only for a moment, Cordelia's face scrunched up from focus as she attempted to discern what her own wants were from the bear she relied on so much. Finally straightening her shoulders she met Silas's gaze and nodded her head firmly. "I hungary too."

Letting out a little giggle at his words and her aunts face she took another sip of her drink as the happy sound seemed to continue to bounce around the room. It wasn't as unusual to hear such noises from her as it use to be, but no amount of comfort could change the fact that Cordelia - whether born or created that way - was now a quiet child. She was never going to be loud.

"I wanna P'ncakes." She nodded her head firmly, committed to this decision.

Silas gave the girl a warm smile at her answer, reaching out a hand to tuck hair behind the child's ear. The expression only broadened at her laughter.

Silas shot Ksenia an unrepentant smirk before turning back to Cordelia. "Pancakes? What a splendid idea, Miss Cordelia. Don't you agree, Miss Ksenia? We shall have ourselves some pancakes, then." He rose to his feet, a hand briefly resting lightly atop the girl's head before he moved across the room to get dishes from the cupboard.

"Would you like to help set the table, Miss Cordelia?" he invited. "Then, we can see about helping your aunt with the pancakes."