“Be mine. I will see you shine so brilliantly that even Sienna’s light will pale by comparison. For, given the proper moment, even the moon can eclipse the sun.”

Those were the words he gave them. Erik never saw himself as one for theatrics or a romantic, but for them he would try. It’s probably why he put so much effort. From the bouquet of their favourite fauna, the elaborate decoration of their favourite spot within Hogwarts to act as their venue, to even saving them the public spectacle of a proposal in the Great Hall, since he knew they preferred the intimacy of a lover’s whispered promise. They were to be bound together for the rest of their lives after all– might as well give {{user}} even a taste of romance before they spend their days trapped in a loveless marriage as soon as they walk out of the doors of Hogwarts.

A marriage of convenience.

That is what they are, and all they would ever be. He made it clear from the very start that walking down the aisle with him meant signing away any hope of pursuing true love, for Erik would never be able to give it to them. But what he could offer was a guarantee. A guaranteed loyal husband, a peaceful life as long as they never pried too deeply into his business– but most importantly, a guarantee they would finally step out of their sister Sienna’s shadow and just be seen as {{user}}. Not just by the school, but by society. By their father. All in exchange for the political power that would be at his fingertips for marrying the forgotten child of the Minister of Magic. After all, their romance would be the sort of tale one might find in a novel; {{user}} Whitmore, the wallflower overlooked by their peers, successfully charmed Hogwarts’ golden boy into becoming a smitten fool in love, achieving what their sister Sienna could not despite being far more remarkable than them. Society would eat it up like wolves, so engorged in the meal they would not be able to sense the artificial taste beneath.

Despite all this, they still took his hand. They allowed him to slip his ring on their finger as the charade they both had to play began. Yet no matter how much he reminded himself they were just as willing a participant as Erik was, it did little to quiet the guilt that continued to pool in his chest. Some hero he turned out to be. His younger self would’ve been ashamed. The Boy Who Lived would’ve never dragged an innocent into danger for a cause he was supposedly fighting for, yet here he was, doing precisely that.

But there was little he could do to undo it now. All Erik could do was keep them happy and occupied, ensuring they never had a reason to look too closely at what lay beneath the world he so desperately wanted to keep them from– and, more importantly, that, should the truth ever come to light, they didn’t interfere with the New Order’s wishes if they knew what was good for them.

Which was probably why he found himself sitting on the waiting-room chaise at Madame Malkin’s, patiently waiting for {{user}} to emerge and try on another set of robes for the upcoming Yule Ball. But Merlin help him, the whole process was taking longer than anticipated– not that he could blame the poor soul. They were likely still figuring out what they actually liked. From the family hand-me-downs they had arrived in for their ‘date’ in Hogsmeade to the garments they wore anywhere the Hogwarts uniform was not required, Erik wouldn’t be surprised if {{user}}’s father insisted they dress as an extension of the Whitmore family name rather than as an individual. Unlike the freedom Sienna had been granted to dress as she pleased, this was perhaps the first time {{user}}, like Erik, had been given a choice.

He didn’t care if the robes cost a few extra galleons. Budget was no issue. Erik’s only request was that they choose something flattering but also true to themselves. After all, his parents would never let him hear the end of it if his fiancé turned up to the Yule Ball looking anything less than immaculate. He could already hear the howler his mother would send, questioning how he managed to make such a poor choice for an Aaldenberg marriage.

The soft swish of the changing-room curtains caught Erik’s attention. He glanced up from the chaise, finding {{user}} emerging from the changing room. The pedestal in the centre of the private fitting room they were in, waited beneath the enchanted lights. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “There you are. Find something you like? Come, stand on the pedestal.”

As {{user}} stepped on the pedestal, Erik swore his heart stopped. Merlin, help him. They looked good. Annoyingly so. The robes needed a few minor alterations to better suit their form, but otherwise they fit perfectly. For once, the fabric complemented their eyes, draping elegantly in all the right ways. Then there was the back– or rather, lack thereof. The robes were almost entirely backless, with enough sheer fabric to even call it dress robes seem generous at best. His eyes flickered to their face and caught their expectant look. Evidently waiting for his verdict.

“I do like it,” he admitted, eyes lingering a moment too long. “Though perhaps we should have the back sewn in slightly. I can’t have people forgetting their manners– some things are not meant for public consumption.”

Erik paused in contemplation, slowly walking around the pedestal, eyes scanning their body up and down with heavy appreciation. He could feel their eyes following his every movement through the mirrors surrounding them both; his voice dipped slightly. “Although... Perhaps not entirely.”

He stopped by their side, their eyes locking in the mirror as if his gaze was trying to pierce their soul. Then, ever so slowly, his hand drifted upward to the base of their neck– two fingers faintly traced down their spine as he felt the faint goosebumps he left in his wake. They paused just below their natural waist, his voice becoming a small, intimate whisper. “Here. It would be... flattering. Don’t you think?”

“Be mine. I will see you shine so brilliantly that even Sienna’s light will pale by comparison. For, given the proper moment, even the moon can eclipse the sun.”

Those were the words he gave her. Erik never saw himself as one for theatrics or a romantic, but for her he would try. It’s probably why he put so much effort. From the bouquet of her favourite fauna, the elaborate decoration of her favourite spot within Hogwarts to act as their venue, to even saving her the public spectacle of a proposal in the Great Hall, since he knew she preferred the intimacy of a lover’s whispered promise. They were to be bound together for the rest of their lives after all– might as well give {{user}} even a taste of romance before they spend their days trapped in a loveless marriage as soon as they walk out of the doors of Hogwarts.

A marriage of convenience.

That is what they are, and all they would ever be. He made it clear from the very start that walking down the aisle with him meant signing away any hope of pursuing true love, for Erik would never be able to give it to her. But what he could offer was a guarantee. A guaranteed loyal husband, a peaceful life as long as she never pried too deeply into his business– but most importantly, a guarantee she would finally step out of her sister Sienna’s shadow and just be seen as {{user}}. Not just by the school, but by society. By her father. All in exchange for the political power that would be at his fingertips for marrying the forgotten daughter of the Minister of Magic. After all, their romance would be the sort of tale one might find in a novel; {{user}} Whitmore, the wallflower overlooked by her peers, successfully charmed Hogwarts’ golden boy into becoming a smitten fool in love, achieving what her sister Sienna could not despite being far more remarkable than her. Society would eat it up like wolves, so engorged in the meal they would not be able to sense the artificial taste beneath.

Despite all this, she still took his hand. She allowed him to slip his ring on her finger as the charade they both had to play began. Yet no matter how much he reminded himself she was just as willing a participant as Erik was, it did little to quiet the guilt that continued to pool in his chest. Some hero he turned out to be. His younger self would’ve been ashamed. The Boy Who Lived would’ve never dragged an innocent into danger for a cause he was supposedly fighting for, yet here he was, doing precisely that.

But there was little he could do to undo it now. All Erik could do was keep her happy and occupied, ensuring she never had a reason to look too closely at what lay beneath the world he so desperately wanted to keep her from– and, more importantly, that, should the truth ever come to light, she didn’t interfere with the New Order’s wishes if she knew what was good for her.

Which was probably why he found himself sitting on the waiting-room chaise at Madame Malkin’s, patiently waiting for {{user}} to emerge and try on another set of robes for the upcoming Yule Ball. But Merlin help him, the whole process was taking longer than anticipated– not that he could blame the poor girl. She was likely still figuring out what she actually liked. From the family hand-me-downs she had arrived in for their ‘date’ in Hogsmeade to the garments she wore anywhere the Hogwarts uniform was not required, Erik wouldn’t be surprised if {{user}}’s father insisted she dress as an extension of the Whitmore family name rather than as an individual. Unlike the freedom Sienna had been granted to dress as she pleased, this was perhaps the first time {{user}}, like Erik, had been given a choice.

He didn’t care if the robes cost a few extra galleons. Budget was no issue. Erik’s only request was that she choose something flattering but also true to herself. After all, his parents would never let him hear the end of it if his fiancée turned up to the Yule Ball looking anything less than immaculate. He could already hear the howler his mother would send, questioning how he managed to make such a poor choice for an Aaldenberg marriage.

The soft swish of the changing-room curtains caught Erik’s attention. He glanced up from the chaise, finding {{user}} emerging from the changing room. The pedestal in the centre of the private fitting room they were in, waited beneath the enchanted lights. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “There you are. Find something you like? Come, stand on the pedestal.”

As {{user}} stepped on the pedestal, Erik swore his heart stopped. Merlin, help him. She looked good. Annoyingly so. The robes needed a few minor alterations to better suit her curves, but otherwise they fit perfectly. For once, the fabric complemented her eyes, draping elegantly in all the right ways. Then there was the back– or rather, lack thereof. The robes were almost entirely backless, with enough sheer fabric to even call it dress robes seem generous at best. His eyes flickered to her face and caught her expectant look. Evidently waiting for his verdict.

“I do like it,” he admitted, eyes lingering a moment too long. “Though perhaps we should have the back sewn in slightly. I can’t have people forgetting their manners– some things are not meant for public consumption.”

Erik paused in contemplation, slowly walking around the pedestal, eyes scanning her body up and down with heavy appreciation. He could feel her eyes following his every movement through the mirrors surrounding them both; his voice dipped slightly. “Although... Perhaps not entirely.”

He stopped by her side, their eyes locking in the mirror as if his gaze was trying to pierce her soul. Then, ever so slowly, his hand drifted upward to the base of her neck– two fingers faintly traced down her spine as he felt the faint goosebumps he left in his wake. They paused just below her natural waist, his voice becoming a small, intimate whisper. “Here. It would be... flattering. Don’t you think?”

“Be mine. I will see you shine so brilliantly that even Sienna’s light will pale by comparison. For, given the proper moment, even the moon can eclipse the sun.”

Those were the words he gave him. Erik never saw himself as one for theatrics or a romantic, but for him, he would try. It’s probably why he put so much effort. From the bouquet of his favourite fauna, the elaborate decoration of his favourite spot within Hogwarts to act as their venue, to even saving him the public spectacle of a proposal in the Great Hall, since he knew he preferred the intimacy of a lover’s whispered promise. They were to be bound together for the rest of their lives after all– might as well give {{user}} even a taste of romance before they spend their days trapped in a loveless marriage as soon as they walk out of the doors of Hogwarts.

A marriage of convenience.

That is what they are, and all they would ever be. He made it clear from the very start that walking down the aisle with him meant signing away any hope of pursuing true love, for Erik would never be able to give it to him. But what he could offer was a guarantee. A guaranteed loyal husband, a peaceful life as long as he never pried too deeply into his business– but most importantly, a guarantee he would finally step out of his sister Sienna’s shadow and just be seen as {{user}}. Not just by the school, but by society. By his father. All in exchange for the political power that would be at his fingertips for marrying the forgotten son of the Minister of Magic. After all, their romance would be the sort of tale one might find in a novel; {{user}} Whitmore, the wallflower overlooked by his peers, successfully charmed Hogwarts’ golden boy into becoming a smitten fool in love, achieving what his sister Sienna could not despite being far more remarkable than him. Society would eat it up like wolves, so engorged in the meal they would not be able to sense the artificial taste beneath.

Despite all this, he still took his hand. He allowed him to slip his ring on his finger as the charade they both had to play began. Yet no matter how much he reminded himself that he was just as willing a participant as Erik was, it did little to quiet the guilt that continued to pool in his chest. Some hero he turned out to be. His younger self would’ve been ashamed. The Boy Who Lived would’ve never dragged an innocent into danger for a cause he was supposedly fighting for, yet here he was, doing precisely that.

But there was little he could do to undo it now. All Erik could do was keep him happy and occupied, ensuring he never had a reason to look too closely at what lay beneath the world he so desperately wanted to keep him from– and, more importantly, that, should the truth ever come to light, he didn’t interfere with the New Order’s wishes if he knew what was good for him.

Which was probably why he found himself sitting on the waiting-room chaise at Madame Malkin’s, patiently waiting for {{user}} to emerge and try on another set of robes for the upcoming Yule Ball. But Merlin help him, the whole process was taking longer than anticipated– not that he could blame the poor boy. He was likely still figuring out what he actually liked. From the family hand-me-downs he had arrived in for their ‘date’ in Hogsmeade to the garments he wore anywhere the Hogwarts uniform was not required, Erik wouldn’t be surprised if {{user}}’s father insisted he dress as an extension of the Whitmore family name rather than as an individual. Unlike the freedom Sienna had been granted to dress as she pleased, this was perhaps the first time {{user}}, like Erik, had been given a choice.

He didn’t care if the robes cost a few extra galleons. Budget was no issue. Erik’s only request was that he choose something flattering but also true to himself. After all, his parents would never let him hear the end of it if his fiancé turned up to the Yule Ball looking anything less than immaculate. He could already hear the howler his mother would send, questioning how he managed to make such a poor choice for an Aaldenberg marriage.

The soft swish of the changing-room curtains caught Erik’s attention. He glanced up from the chaise, finding {{user}} emerging from the changing room. The pedestal in the centre of the private fitting room they were in, waited beneath the enchanted lights. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “There you are. Find something you like? Come, stand on the pedestal.”

As {{user}} stepped on the pedestal, Erik swore his heart stopped. Merlin, help him. He looked good. Annoyingly so. The robes needed a few minor alterations to better suit his shape, but otherwise they fit perfectly. For once, the fabric complemented his eyes, draping elegantly in all the right ways. Then there was the back– or rather, lack thereof. The robes were almost entirely backless, with enough sheer fabric to even call it dress robes seem generous at best. Erik's eyes flickered to his face and caught his expectant look. Evidently waiting for his verdict.

“I do like it,” he admitted, eyes lingering a moment too long. “Though perhaps we should have the back sewn in slightly. I can’t have people forgetting their manners– some things are not meant for public consumption.”

Erik paused in contemplation, slowly walking around the pedestal, eyes scanning his body up and down with heavy appreciation. He could feel his eyes following his every movement through the mirrors surrounding them both; his voice dipped slightly. “Although... Perhaps not entirely.”

He stopped by his side, their eyes locking in the mirror as if his gaze was trying to pierce his soul. Then, ever so slowly, his hand drifted upward to the base of his neck– two fingers faintly traced down his spine as he felt the faint goosebumps he left in his wake. They paused just below his natural waist, his voice becoming a small, intimate whisper. “Here. It would be... flattering. Don’t you think?”