Shadow Puppets
The house elves made quick work of the remaining pixies. The guests had left in a hurry, the mood soured by the pests. Eleanor yawned in faux exhaustion, “I’m going up to bed, it’s been such an eventful night.” She said to her father. She was just about to climb the stairs when she saw him exit the ballroom after checking for remaining pixies. “Eventful indeed.” Her father’s stern face stared at her when just around his shoulder her mother appeared. Eleanor tried very hard not to laugh at the state of her. Her once perfectly pinned hair was horridly disheveled. It looked like the pixies had taken to pulling every pin out and then romped through it.
“Horrible little beasts” she spat, stomping past her husband. She all but blew past Eleanor on the stairs. But of course the ball couldn’t be too far from her mind. “Don’t be too sad, dear. You’ll get another chance very soon. The boys were practically falling at your feet, the suspense will only make them want you more.” She giggled stupidly as she climbed up the staircase, holding up her skirts in both hands. As she turned down the hall she could still be heard humoring herself.
“We will talk tomorrow.” Eleanor’s father huffed. She followed him with her eyes as he walked in the direction of his study. He never did sleep very well after parties. And she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to be in a room with Helena.
Pinky helped Eleanor out of her dress and into her nightgown. Then sat her down on the little blue vanity seat to comb her hair. “You don’t need to brush it for me,” Eleanor said to the elf gently. “Does the lady want Pinky to stop?” The elf froze, worry flashing behind her eyes. Eleanor watched her through the mirror. “No, no. I only meant- well I appreciate your help very much. But I feel…bad making you do things for me. You do so much. You’re constantly working.”
Pinky started to pull the brush through Eleanor's chestnut brown hair again, humming softly. “Surely you know Pinky does not mind. Not for you, who has been so kind to Pinky and her friends.”
It was true that Eleanor had always had a soft spot for house elves. They were powerful magical beings cursed to a life of servitude and cruelty. She saw no reason for it. They had always been so helpful and gentle. And even if they were not, it was not up to wizards to decide the worth of any other creature. She wanted to study magical law to help free them, she knew that she could do so much for them. That she had a purpose greater than breeding and looking pretty. She smiled painfully at pinky. “I wish I could set you free.” she said on a shaky breath.
“But then you’d have to brush your hair. And Pinky is much better at getting all the knots out,” the elf remarked. Eleanor almost laughed but she wasn’t sure if pinky was being sincere.
“That’s very true Pinky. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome Lady Eleanor.” she smiled.
Eleanor’s gaze dropped to her hands folded in her lap. There was no hiding her sadness. It seemed so far-fetched that she would get the ending she dreamt of. Her father certainly did not believe in her. Her mother lived with her head in cotton candy clouds. And her classmates only ever doubted her intelligence or made her feel insignificant. The supporting evidence Eleanor needed to feel her power did not exist except for in herself. And some days it was just not enough. Except there was that voice that from time to time ran through her mind. Soft and full, full of sorrow and unmet expectations, soft despite the cruelty and malice. Ominis believed in her. When she started a petition to get the house elves better housing he was the first to sign. And when she ranted all night long about the cruelty of harvesting fairy wings he was the only one who didn’t fall asleep, he asked her questions and agreed. He cared. It was one person, and still it made all the difference to her. If he believed that she could get through this, then she would believe it too. The first tear she didn’t notice, the second splash against her hand. Her ring finger.
“Is the lady hurt?” Pinky’s tender voice called out.
Eleanor quickly wiped at her tears. “No. I’m quite alright.” A shaky lie.
“You do not want to get married.”
“What- how did-” The young woman stuttered.
“Pinky knows because her last master cried the same as you. It’s always during the courting season.” Pinky snapped and the hair brush appeared on the vanity with a “pop”.
“I sound like a brat don’t I? I should be thankful to have the security and comfort that marriage can offer me. With the suitors I have I’ll never have to work a day in my life.”
“Pinky thinks you deserve the choice. And you’re not a brat miss, you’re very kind. And beautiful too.”
Eleanor wiped the rest of her tears on her shift. Her face lifted towards the mirror. Hollow eyes stared at her, but underneath a flame flickered. A flame that need only be fanned.
The next morning Pinky came to Eleanor’s room when the sun had risen over the horizon completely. She dressed her in a day gown, pinned up her hair and slipped a sweet into her pocket. “The ones you liked when you were a girl” She sang sweetly. Eleanor’s admiration for the elf could not be contained by the muscles of her face.
She had been called into her father’s study first thing. Dread swirled in her stomach, taking hold of her and making her ill. She pushed open the large oak door and entered. Mr. Feldwing lounged in one of the high back chairs in front of the fireplace. His back was to her. He extended a hand to the other chair. Eleanor walked slowly, each step weighted.
“Good morning” She greeted him as she lowered herself into the velvet chair. He tilted his head in her direction, fingers tapping on the arms of this chair. “How did you like your first ball of the season?”
“It was short, sadly. But I enjoyed it, thank you.”
He hummed, fingers continuing to tap. “Any suitors peaking your interest yet?”
“Oh, well, it’s much too early to say.” She tried to sound serious to fool him. But he was a smart man in a calculated way, he wasn’t going to stop asking questions.
“You danced with the Gaunt boy. Do you think there is a match there?” His brows quirked at the prospect. Eleanor shifted in her seat uncomfortably, feeling the heavy gaze of him peering into her mind. “He was a gentleman, as a lot of them appear to be.”
Mr. Feldwing leaned forward, grabbing a piece of parchment from the coffee table in front of him. He held it out to Eleanor. “This is an approved list of suitors. They have been permitted to call on you, starting this evening. You may narrow the list as you see fit.” She took the sheet gingerly. “But Eleanor, you will find a suitor by the end of this season.” The threat was only thinly veiled. It stung Eleanor’s throat as she drank in his words. “What will happen if I do not?”
“Ah” He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, “That brings me to my other reason for this talk.” She waited for him to go on with bated breath.
“If you are engaged by the end of the season I will hire you on my team as a Liaison for whatever groups you choose. But only if the man is from my approved list.” Her father worked for the Ministry in a high up position. He could do as he pleased.
“You’re…bribing me?”
He sighed heavily, resting his forehead in his hand, “Call it what you want Eleanor. Just don't embarrass me further.”
“I don’t know what you mean father, I have only tried to make you proud…”
“Sebastian Sallow is a roguish young man isn’t he? Not what I expected from your cousin's letters. Yet I can see the appeal to a foolish girl like you.”
“Sebastian?”
“Your beau from Hogwarts isn’t he? The one who let the pixies out in the house last night. Fred said you’re always by his side”
Eleanor’s jaw slackened, eyes opening wider. He wasn’t entirely right, yet he knew things that could not have been merely perceived. She wondered what kind of letters her cousin, Fred, had sent him during their time in school. But of course he was keeping tabs on her.
“I will admit I invited him out of pure curiosity. And maybe a part of me was going to give him a chance. But you both proved to me why this is necessary. You will always be ridiculous, a fanciful child, until you are thrown out of it. It’s for your own good, dear. One day you’ll thank me.”
“You’re mistaken” She shot to her feet, indignation coursing through her veins. “Sebastian is only a friend. He was merely trying to help. And I will never forgive you for underestimating me so gravely.” She stormed to the door, trying to keep her emotions below the surface, lest he use those against her too. “Till the end of the season.” Her father’s voice barely reached her ears as she shut the door and walked away.