After Effects

[Talia Benoit]

Talia finished pulling her hair up into a tight bun. She knew he would be here at any minute, and though they had been dating for seven months, now, she still spent just as many hours readying herself for each individual date. It was not easy keeping contact when the distance was so great, but he wrote so frequently that Talia hardly felt they had ever parted. It was their meeting at the wedding that had first brought the couple to meet, and while they had only remained friends for so long, the feelings Talia had towards him had changed drastically. It was her suggestion they become an item, a suggestion of which the young man in question seemed only too pleased to accept.

And now he was at the front door.

Talia gasped, tugging on her shoes and wiping off the excess lipstick from her face. She hurried downstairs, hearing her parents shouting something to her, which she ignored. As usual. Her elegant hand fell to the knob of the front door, twisting it and welcoming her visitor with a peck on the lips. Her father shouted something. Talia rolled her eyes. "Au revoir, papa," she called out in her airy french tone, before shuffling out the front door, slipping back inside only too snatch up her coat.

---

The room bustled with other young men and women, drinks in their hands, dressed to dance. Talia stood, a drink poised and ready in one hand, Zdravko's hand in the other. "It is good that France is open to other people," Talia commented in her tatters of English she had been forced to learn to fully communicate with Zdravko. She still spoke French around her own friends, however, mostly to annoy him. "That man looks lost." She added, gesturing to a young man only a few years her senior at most, his eyes roaming the room for someone to talk to. He was obviously foreign. Obviously.

"Christelle will be here. I hope." Talia heaved a sigh. Her elder sister, master example of a daughter, high grades, blonde hair, pretty and full of bright ideas, had been traveling since she had finished at school. The years had swooped by with only passing glimpses of her when she came to visit during the New Year. "She was in Egypt when she wrote."

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[Zdravko Olaf]

Zdravko squeezed his girlfriend's hand, shooting her an almost sympathetic smile. At least, as close to one as he could muster, what with being so distracted by the food table, and all. "I'm sure she will be here, soon," he said, his English near spotless compared to that of his Bulgarian family. "If she promised to be here, she will." Zdravko gave Talia a nod before escorting her over to the buffet. His eyes picked over the array of food available. Plenty of salad. Enough to fill a bath tub. Certainly not what Zdravko was looking for. He reached out for something that looked familiar. Oh, please let it be what I think it is.. His fingers grasped the sausage roll tightly, bringing it up to his mouth where he took a slow and measured bite.

"Pleh!" he spat in disgust, "What's wrong with this food?" He shoved the partially eaten sausage roll into the hand of his girlfriend, gesturing to her to try it. "Seriously, is somebody trying to poison me? What's wrong with it?" If he could not get one normal sausage roll, this entire evening would be ruined. For Zdravko, at least. He made to wipe the crumbs from his shirt, suddenly growing aware of the circular bump in his shirt pocket. His heart gave a jolt, which must have shown across his face. Don't panic, he told himself, not now.

 

[Talia Benoit]

"Zdravko!" Talia declared with disgust at the chewed sausage roll in her hand. Still she raised it to her nose, gave it a sniff, and shook her head at her boyfriend. "It is not poison," she tutted, turning the roll over in her hand before offering it back to him, "it is seasoning." She frowned curiously as Zdravko pulled a face. Actually, he seemed to turn quite pale. Was it the seasoning that had done it? Was he growing ill? "Zdravko?" Talia asked softly to the faraway look in his eyes, "Are you alright?" She placed the sausage roll down on the edge of the table, before turning her full attention on Zdravko, her free hand brushing his bony shoulder.

 

[Zdravko Olaf]

Zdravko pulled himself back down to earth. Why couldn't he just be outrageous and kick over a table, or something? That's what his younger self would have done. Of course, his level of maturity had changed once he had met the lovely Talia. Her elegant French accent, her delicate beauty, the way she treated him as an equal.. She had entranced him, and that was why his mind had wandered so freely to the small silver ring in his pocket. It was his father's idea. Naturally. He didn't think it right the two carry on their romance apart, and surely the only solution was that they wed. But Zdravko wasn't too sure about the whole thing. Maybe he wasn't ready for marriage just yet. Maybe not ever.

"I'm fine," he smiled, before turning to nod and engage the eye of his potential sister-in-law who had just walked through the door. "I think the guest of honour has arrived." He beamed at Talia, gently dusting off her hand from his shoulder, bringing it to greet her sister's open arms.

 

[Christelle Benoit]

Christelle beamed, her eyes shining as she spied her little sister and the boy she was obviously involved with. The sisters embraced for a moment, a tear leaking onto Christelle's shoulder from her sister sweet eyes. She wiped the tear from her cheek and smiled. "*Hé, petite sœur, s'il vous plaît ne pleure pas." Talia continued to sob a moment or two longer, before Christelle drew forth a snow-white handkerchief, embroidered with small blue flowers. She handed it to her her sister, who began to dry the tears from her face. "**Qui est ce? Est-il votre ami?" She asked smoothly, looking Zdravko over. The boy was not exactly what she would have hoped for her sister to be involved with, though she had nothing against him, really. He seemed nice enough. Just scruffy.

*Hey, little sister, please don't cry.
**Who is this? Is he your friend?

 

[Talia Benoit]

Talia felt so emotional seeing her sister again. They met so infrequently that she had truly grown to appreciate her elder sister's company when she saw her. "*C'est mon amour. Ce garçon de la partie." She responded, before casting a glance over at her frowning partner. Zdravko did not know what they were talking about. She always forgot how little French he actually knew. She sighed, turning to him, fixing him a warm smile. "Christelle, my sister, Zdravko, my partner." She gestured to each in turn, offering them the chance to meet formally for the first time. "He speaks no French," she explained, watching the look on her sister's face change from that of pleasant greeting, to intriguement. "He is Bulgarian."

*He's my love. The boy from the party.

 

[Christelle Benoit]

Christelle turned to the boy, greeting him with kisses on his cheeks. The boy blushed. "Hello, Zdravko," she carefully pronounced, "it's a pleasure to meet you." Christelle spoke far better English than her sister. Then again, she had been head girl at the time of one Triwizard tournament, and had felt it her duty to learn other languages. Her Bulgarian, however, was still very rough, and she chose not to expose her weakness in it and humiliate herself as she had briefly done during the visitations from the Durmstrang students. Fortunately, most Durmstrangs seemed to speak English as their second language. As Talia had spoken her best English Christelle had heard her use, she could only assume that Zdravko spoke it, also. Her eyes briefly flitted about the room, pausing on a man she vaguely recognised. She patted her sister's arm. "Excuse me," she nodded, "I've just noticed someone.." She left the two lovebirds to it, for a few moments, as she made to greet the man she felt she knew. "Jack? Jack Dyson?"