Gravenmere Court - A Late August Row | Benji

Saturday,
25th of August, 1923.
3:15 pm.

The day was warm, and Ellen felt pleasantly drowsy. It had not been a typical afternoon, still wasn't, really. For one, the Minister for Magic was, at present, occupying a chair on their lawn. Two, she tilted the open parasol back from her shoulder a fraction, and there was Benji Laurence, in front of her, where he had been for some minutes. Three, and it was this fact, precisely, that had made the afternoon atypical. The Laurences had come through the hall Floo at some time half past ten, the Minister first and the rest of his family as the green fire gave them up. They had been greeted by all four Graymeres, her father at the center, set to shake the Minister's hand as though it were any neighbor's.

Benji was her priority, that was clear. She and William had been informed of the hosting on the nineteenth, and neither had said anything against it - not because they had nothing to say on the matter, but because the pair of them were far too sensible to speak about it at length. Their mother was not the hovering sort, exactly; she simply decided things, particularly once she and Father had conferred, and a decision in that quarter was rarely announced so much as discovered. The guest wing had been turned out, Heddy was already provisioning, and none of it had waited on the informing, which said something about when the matter had actually been settled.

William, for his part, had received the news with something nearer interest than resignation. A sitting Minister for Magic - in his lifetime - coming to Gravenmere. They had all seen the man before, naturally; the whole family had stood in the Ministry's atrium with the rest of Britain. But an atrium was one thing. Their table was another, and William had said as much at dinner the night before, twice, quite earnestly, and no one had argued with him.

And Ellen, whatever her own feelings on the arrangement - which were neither here nor there - could not pretend the visit was a small one. It was rather the opposite of small, and she knew it, and had dressed accordingly. A year ago the name Laurence had been a good name on a seating chart. Since January it had been the government. And the government's son was sitting before her. Well, 'son'.. that was an oversimplification, but not one she was disposed to argue with herself about. Benji was Laurence enough for every purpose the visit had.

Luncheon had run two hours, full of delicious things and plenty of conversation. But as the sun went long, William had turned around in his chair and proposed the lake: that the afternoon was being wasted, the water was flat, and he meant to have a turn of it before the light went. And what a lovely idea that was.

Oh, then be a dear and take the young people with you, their mother had said, sweetly. Whether any of that had landed on him as an imposition, Ellen could not tell. Oh, well.

By three they were down at the eastern boathouse, and out on the water before quarter past. William rowed even and unhurried, the oarlocks creaking in their leather at each catch. And the shore went away from them at the speed of a walk. She had looked back once. The lawn had already made the families into figures, with their chairs, tables, parasols, a scatter of color in which no house, no blood, no nation could be told apart at that distance.

Something about that image caused her brows to furrow, just ever so slightly.

And now, she was looking at Benji.

.. she was not sure what to say.

The rowing had slowed. William easing the oars in, letting the boat drift and with the creaking gone, the quiet came and settled. Maybe he had tired.

It was not a problem she was accustomed to having. Ellen generally knew the correct thing to say; the difficulty had simply never come up before, of what to say when nothing had been said to her first. When she thought about it, every conversation she and Benji Laurence had ever held had come attached to some form of.. purpose. Like, a house matter, a shared class, or, say, to react in some manner to whatever scampish thing he had said next. But she had never once simply talked with him, with no object in it. Six years of the same table, same house, and she could not confidently have said what he thought about any of it. Including, now, this.

She took a glance away, for a moment.

The lake was in one of its obliging moods. Flat, carrying the light all the way out from the shore, just enough breeze to keep them cool without being frightful across the skin. Along the north bank the oaks stood in their own reflections, and had done for as long as her family had; it was those which Father had made something of once, when she and William were very small. The tree and the water, one showing the other its true shape. She had not thought of it in years. But did so now, for no reason she could name. The rushes ran thick where the water went shallow, greener than the lawns and a good deal wilder, and the dragonflies were working along the margin. Out east, the herons kept their stations by the boathouse, still as they had been all afternoon, unbothered, as ever.

She didn't know if it would all be the same, come next summer. The way the water slid, the golden light. Two weeks from tonight she would be on the train, and next August there would be no train, and this was the last summer the lake would be hers in this particular way — a schoolgirl's. Free and so lovely. She liked rather that. The word, feeling it. How lovely things were.

Her gaze returned, and she thought she should speak. But there the matter of William. Right there at the oars, besides, taking in whatever she opened with, which rather narrowed the field.

Unless..

"I am sorry, Willie, but would you give us a moment?" she said, as she removed her wand from one of her skirt's deep pockets. She raised the wood, and cast; "Muffliato."

William, to his credit, asked nothing and said nothing as a distinct, but comparatively mild buzzing sound filled his ears. He shipped the oars properly, settled back against the thwart with his hat over his eyes, and became, without a word, scenery. An arrangement she suspected he had been waiting to make since the boathouse. Oh, sweet Willie.

"Benji," Ellen began, softly. "May I ask you a question?"

It was the last few days of summer, and Benji was relishing every single one. In a few short months, he'd be graduated and off into a world he'd have to make his own. For a boy who had spent his young life on the streets, learning how to survive off of his own wit, it wasn't nearly as daunting for him as it may be for others. Certainly, life had changed and Benji had been taken into the world of the wealthy and elite, but it didn't mean adulthood was any less terrifying.

In every way that mattered, Benji was thankful for his beginnings - not for the trauma it put him and his little sister through - but for the resilience it taught him, and how to navigate uncertainty with his chin up. For the silver spoon crowd, perhaps they rested a bit more on their laurels, knowing their families would be there to catch them if they failed. Benji had no such illusions. While the Laurences and Barlowes were good to him, he'd always been independent-minded. He knew if worse came to worse, he could take care of himself and would, if need be.

Ostentatious castles, money, luxury...all of it was nice, and Benji would never turn his nose up at any of it. But he could live without it all.

James had other plans. The Graymeres were a family he'd been eyeing to make alliances with for awhile. Pureblooded. Wealthy. Well-respected. His uncle had mentioned that he hadn't felt outright support from them regarding his administration's agenda and was interested in pinning down where they stood. With their political support, it would be another powerful chess piece on his board; one he could wield in Cornwall when the wizarding world exercised their sovereignty from the muggle government that sought to keep hold on them.

Without their open support, it was still a friendly alliance. One he could source potential future marriages from for the younger generation when the time came, or at the very least maintain as another respectable connection among Britain’s old families. The invitation to stay the weekend was welcomed with interest and accepted readily, though Benji suspected James viewed the entire affair less as a holiday and more as an opportunity to quietly take the measure of their hosts.

Benji had been given no particular assignment, other than to behave himself and act like the gentleman James had taught him to be. His uncle held no illusions that the wild streak had been tamed out of Benji, but he certainly expected the now seventeen-year-old to know when the wield it, and when to keep it tightly locked away.

For Benji's part, he was simply here for a good time.

Ellen had been his housemate for six years now, and in that time they'd never...truly become friends. It seemed an acquaintance of tolerance on both ends. She didn't really get under his skin and he tried not to annoy her. They interacted at times, in classes and meals and the occasional passing in the common room. He thought he remembered playing Wizard's Chess with her once or twice in their younger years, but nothing that truly stood out in his memory fondly.

She was quiet, from what he saw of her. He was loud and boisterous. Should he have made more of an effort to get to know her over the years? Perhaps, but he supposed that's what they were here for now.

Why he was sat on a boat in silence with Ellen and her brother, he didn't quite know but Aunt Amelia had given him a look when the suggestion was made. The polite thing was to go along without complaint and pretend being ferried about on a bit of wood was an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon.

Awkward as it might be.

"I am sorry, Willie, but would you give us a moment?"

Hmm? The boy broke his gaze from the ripples fanning outward with each pull of the oars and looked toward Ellen. A moment? The two of them? What for? Benji's eyebrow raised, looking back and forth between Ellen and her brother, not quite understanding what his housemate suddenly felt the need to discuss that William couldn't be privy to.

"Benji. May I ask you a question?"

"Umm," Benji pursed his lips, his confusion growing by the moment as 'Willie' turned his hat over his eyes and appeared to take a nap. Great. It seemed they weren't leaving this body of water anytime soon. "I guess I don't really have a choice in the matter." His confusion turned to amusement as his gaze flicked back to Ellen, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. He leaned back a bit, resting his arm on the edge of the boat and gave a slight shrug.

"Sure Ellen, go for it."