The Book of Secrets

I'm so glad Gwen came to hear me play... Performing from the hall stage is a fair bit different to sitting in front of the fire at home, but I did manage both of my pieces without fainting of fright, and she seemed to be pleased that she'd come. I'm still hunting for the right 'summer' piece, which I think is a marvelous idea. I believe I shall have to find a spring one, as well, as some days it seems that the sun will never shine properly again. Gwen seems to appreciate sunlight, even if you do have a bizarre fascination with the cold.

I wish you'd let on whether you might be as fond of her as I am, but I know you'd never say, even if you were. She makes you laugh, Trist. You used to laugh so much more, before Father died. Before Mamá left us. It was us, too, though she left because of me. She left you, too, and she might have stayed if not for me. I'm sorry for that, more than I can say. Everything good in my life is because of you, and I repay you so poorly for it. I do love you, though, and I hope you know it.

My thanks for whatever you said to Luc when you sent me off with Gwen after my recital. He insists that you were most genial and had a pleasant chat. I'll have you know I believe not a word of it, but he still seems inclined to spend time with me, so I forgive you any threats you may have made in his direction. I'm fond of him.

Can we go riding when the snow melts? I long to be in the air a while... it's dreadfully close here.

Lissette still isn't speaking to me. I suppose it's just as well, as she's awful to everyone she does acknowledge, but I do wish otherwise.

I know she asked, because she mentioned as much, but I've had a letter from Gwen, and a wonderful book, all photographs of waves, all kinds. I've just come from sending a letter in return, and I hope she doesn't mind it being a bit long. Will we see her while I'm home again, do you think?

I won't say too much about Luc, as you'll make that terrible face and give yourself wrinkles, but he's been most gentlemanly and I've enjoyed his company of late. Seemingly also just as well, as I'm minus Lissette, and I've hardly seen Adele. I imagine one of her projects has taken her over again.

Love,
Regan

It feels like the storm has passed, but I'm not quite sure what to make of the aftereffects. It's... not the empty I usually get. I was, and I know you knew, on Saturday, but then there was tea with Gwen Jones, and that was lovely and I'm not anymore. Empty.

I don't What is wr My words are all scattered again. It was easier the other night when I sat with you, though you're so much better at deciphering me anyway that I can't say whether I was better or I just wasn't having to try so hard. Everything is this great jumble in my head - I want it to go away so I can think properly! I've things to write and I can't hold them all still long enough to pull the sense out and put it here - Gwen, Adele, Michael Atherton, Professor Gaudet, no Lissette.

Apparently Lissette left on Sunday morning and won't be back all week. No one's said why, nor will they, even if they know. I don't want to think the worst, though the rumormongers are quite vicious already.

Class yesterday, Transfiguration. I moved back to my usual table and a pair of girls sat behind me before Michael Atherton arrived, just before he'd have been late. He sat at the next table over, but from appearances there was something on his mind, and it was rather a good class. I hardly noticed him except when he was being particularly waspish to his seatmate. He followed me out, though... I left a bit late because I'd been making notes, and he must have waited, as he's nearly always the first one packed and gone. So, I've spoken to him now. I wanted to just hurry away, but he's taller and quicker, and I remember now that I'd meant to be going to the library, but I was just walking then and I'd lost where to, when he caught up. He said that I'm afraid of him like he was sure of it. Well, I am, a bit. I've no idea what he's wanted all this time his eyes have been stuck to me, little cold spots that they are, and he's... rough.

I stopped walking. I don't know why, other than surprise, and it was likely a terribly stupid thing to do, but I just felt frozen. I never answered him, but I suppose I didn't need to... he wanted to know what was so scary, and a hundred things were in my head, but I told him the truth, that it was his eyes, and I didn't want them on me, and he laughed. He can add that smile he had to the list, but I didn't want to say anything more and I nearly tripped trying to back away, and turned for the corner and barely missed walking directly into Professor Gaudet. Atherton hovered, but the Professor asked if I wouldn't mind escorting an old wizard back to his office, as he'd wanted to discuss the Runic script I was so interested in. Oh I might've kissed that dear man! I did leave with him, and I'm a bit worried about tomorrow, for class, but it's... different. Like something's broken and is over. I'm not sure how I feel about that, either side, but I'm not worried about after class, as Luc very politely insisted that I permit him to walk me to the library so that we can revise with Denis and Anna.

I believe Adele must have said something to him, and he's being a gentleman, as after I left Professor Gaudet on Monday I was nearly late for supper, and spent half the evening recounting the afternoon to her. I almost wish I felt more fondly toward Luc than I do... he's very sweet, and I enjoy being in his company, but he isn't it's too soft a .. Oh, never mind it, you don't want to read that anyway.

Adele herself has been the most wonderful friend this whole time, though I'm sure she could have better things to do if she were inclined. I'm grateful; I'm no good at all at talking to the girls in my year, but Adele is quiet and doesn't make me feel as if I ought to be bursting with news every minute.

And you... I'm quite glad you're keeping company with beautiful women, after all... I know I've said it until you're tired of me, but Sunday afternoon was the best fun I've had in ages, even though it wasn't meant to be. Gwen... she's big inside, like you are, (well, you're big outside too) and bright. It'd be preposterously rude, but I don't think I'd get tired of watching her for a long, long while. The bright changes, different to yours, though... I'll tell you when I know it better and I'm not too tired to draw all the words in. They're fighting today.

Thank you for this weekend (and next? please?). I love you.

Snowdrop,

I'll see you Friday evening after your classes are finished, and we'll go riding even if it does sleet. Mallow misses you. (As does that obnoxious old rooster of Jack's - it followed me around half the morning yesterday while I was trying to work. Threats of the stew pot were unsuccessful, which is just what I get for talking to a bird. I blame your influence.)

Until then, keep your chin high; you've outsmarted this Atherton fellow for the moment, ably, and further discussion can will be had at home.

Thank you for learning when to tell me that you need help. You know anything I can do is yours if only you ask, but that's the key: asking.

I love you.

-Trist

Saturday will be a most welcome thing. I miss you. I'm still glad I stayed, but I want to sleep warm with your heart under my ear again, and wake to the smell of coffee, because you're absolutely addicted to the stuff even though you insist otherwise. (I love you.)

Go back and read the part of my last page that I sealed, please? You don't need the passphrase - I learned a charm to seal by touch... just run your finger across the line.

I was unhappy enough that I thought you ought to know.


I've moved to the back of the room, for now. I don't like sitting so far away from the professor, but I can't be that nervous all the time I'm in the classroom without wanting to scream. Adele took me walking on Thursday because I was so jittery, and I told her everything, and that I planned to change seats again - she thought it was my best option, too. Friday was better.

Adele is quite calming. I'm still not sure what's become of all the projects she's usually running hither and thither for, but I can nearly always find her in the lounge or library when I go to revise, and she's said I'm welcome to join her without asking, now. I'll not complain or overanalyze, for once. She's around at present, and that's nice - and helping me to stay away from Lissette whenever possible. I know it's awful and I'm being a miserable friend to her, but I can't listen anymore, not to hear her talk of Damon with the memory of Atherton's too-heavy eyes on me.

Luc watches me, but not like that. He smiles at me when I catch him at it, and goes back to talking with his friends or reading, whatever he was doing before he saw me. It's... friendly, of a sort, and he speaks to me on occasion, just to say hello or ask if I happen to know the reading assignment for History. Lissette insists he fancies me every time she sees him within speaking distance of me, which sometimes makes me wish I could be vexed enough to put a permanent sticking charm on her lips (I suppose Damon would be upset, though...). I don't mind about Luc; he's a nice fellow, and seems content enough with smiling from the next table over. His eyes don't drag on me.

Let's stay at home this weekend, instead of in Paris? We can go riding if it doesn't sleet, and I'll play you the solo I've picked up for the spring recital.

Too cold to keep writing, though perhaps I'm the only one who thinks so. I'm going to toast myself by the fire a while.

Love,
Regan

The weekend was lovely, and I'm rather glad I stayed at school, I think... though really I just wish I might be in two places at once, so I could have been here as well as in Paris. I learned two new dances, and taught three, so Saturday evening was quite productive, and loads of fun besides. Lissette joined in, and managed not to be a complete cow ... herself... as much as she has been of late.

Professor Gaudet asked me again this afternoon if I'd consider working in translation once I leave school. I do love Runes, and he's such a dear old thing that it's easily my favorite class. I told him the truth, which is that I'm considering a great number of things at the moment, translation being one of them. I've no solid idea of what I ought to do next summer, really. I'll have to find something, I know; even as fond of reading as I am, and cello, I'd grow tired of both eventually. I suppose translation interests me as much as anything... I know English and French, I could pick up the German where I left off learning it for faerie tales, and by the time I leave school I'll have a very good understanding of runes. Perhaps. Thoughts to be reconsidered later.

Would that Transfiguration were proceeding as smoothly.

( Voici des dragons, procédez prévenu. )

I wonder if Simon's forgotten he promised to owl me... I've still not had word from him yet.

I always do smile when I remember who loves me. Nothing makes me happier, especially as it's past time for bed and I can imagine the look you'd give me, knowing I'm still awake.

Dance was a refreshing change from routine, for once. No ballet happened today, which is highly unusual for any class I've yet had at school. There was a folk dance first, not unheard of, but hardly typical, then Adele ran us through two of the reels of which she's so fond. I can never decide if the music makes me want to dance more, or find my cello and try to adapt the tune.

Cello yesterday was nice as well; I believe I've nearly reached the point where it becomes only trying new pieces and improving upon techniques I've learnt already. I think perhaps I'll learn our favorite bit of Bach before February, though by saying so, of course, I've ruined the surprise.

Lissette is, as ever, a font of absolutely unwanted information. I care for little less, really, than to know what goes on in her beau's bed; it's not as if I couldn't guess, and I certainly neither require nor enjoy the graphic detail being bandied about. Any thought I might have myself is better kept to myself, thank you, than flung about the dorms like gossip from the Prophet. No one seems to understand that some things just ought to be private. From what keeps circulating in nothing like whispers, though, I'd not be surprised if she found herself in a bad spot of trouble by the end of the year.

Adele seems to be the only other one with a clear head lately, and I'd forgotten, I think, how pleasant it is even to sit and study with her, as she doesn't feel it necessary to chatter endlessly simply because there's no other noise happening. I may yet go and ask to stay if the ridiculous giggling in here doesn't quiet soon.

Livelier, yes, but I long for quiet, even if the solar is too cold for me to enjoy it still.

All my love,
Regan

There's no particularly engaging news from me or Ivy's Run, really, so I'll send the book on as I'm sure Beauxbatons is much livelier. I took Mallow out for some exercise today, which he seemed to appreciate, though not as much as when his little miss is around to sneak him sugar and apples every time no one is looking.

I've supper with an exceptionally pompous Spaniard tomorrow evening to which I am greatly not looking forward, but business is business, and his is currently rather important, so I'll just have to endure. Do think cheerful things in my direction if you get the chance, I rather imagine I'll need them.

Smile and remember who loves you.

-Trist

Trist,

My thanks for the poem - I'd wondered why you were reading Yeats, but it made me smile a bit.

Sometimes I wish I could save how warm you are, and wrap myself up in it when I'm missing you. My blankets are wonderful, but it's not quite the same (especially waking up, when the room's gone all cold).

It appears that Lissette has a new beau (I'm sure you're heartbroken) - I've heard at least four things about him that I'd no cause to know, and two I don't want to know about anyone, just in the past ten minutes. I do wish she'd go to bed and stop poking her head in here wanting to know what I'm doing.

Perhaps I'll try for sleep myself... if nothing else I can think on the Yeats a while, it paints lovely pictures.

~~~~~~~

I was right about waking. It's freezing in here and I'd much rather be watching you drink your coffee and burrowing under the duvet.

I was going to wait until later, but you know I'm terrible at keeping anything from you. I hid a book in your bed table, conveniently forgetting of course, to mark the page. Your hint ought to make it something suitable for coffee, though:

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

Classes will be long today - I'm still tired though it's nearly time for breakfast. (Stop frowning, I know you've not closed your eyes save to blink since you left me yesterday. Do get some rest, please?)

I love you and I miss you terribly, but you knew both of those things already.

~your Snowdrop~

Snowdrop,

If you've not eaten supper yet, don't you dare keep reading until you have.

I mean it.

I know this will come back to me with tear-spots on it, and that's all right. I'll miss you too, until I see you again - I do every time, just as you do. I was proud of you saying goodbye today. (Yes, I knew you wouldn't cry at the door even before you did... I'm your brother, we see these things.)

Wipe your face and go find this in your books; it's the same volume that was on my table this morning, if you were looking, otherwise, merry hunting.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can
understand.

Dorus packed your blue blanket just where she always does, top compartment on the left... take that and your poem and our book to bed, you'll have a long day tomorrow, and the day after will be better.

I love you and you'll see me sooner than it seems, as always.

- Trist