Exactly one minute prior to their agreed time of half seven, Tristan appeared just outside the door to Gwen's flat with a muffled 'pop'. Sliding his wand back into his sleeve, he rapped on the door, tucking his hands into his pockets as he waited to be greeted. Events at Beauxbatons, no matter the occasion, tended heavily toward semi-formal, and his attire had been chosen accordingly; one of his tailored black suits, a shirt in French blue, a tastefully striped tie. His height made him an imposing figure, which he tended to do little to dispel, and as he had the suspicion that Regan's hopeful suitor would be in attendance at the recital, he'd purposely not dressed to detract from that image.

Gwen would prove another interesting factor to the evening's course, he had little doubt. She would be on his arm for a not inconsiderable period of time, which was closer than it was likely prudent for them to be, given the reaction each time they passed through one another's space, but there was nothing to be done for it. Worry would be overstating his take on the situation; they each had sufficient control over themselves that nothing would happen, but the repeated temptation would begin to wear eventually.


Gwen had been ready for more than a quarter of an hour and had been enjoying a glass of Riesling while she waited for Tristan to arrive. Hearing a knock, she pulled herself from her observation of the city outside her floor to ceiling windows and headed for the door, banishing her glass to the kitchen as she moved through her flat. Her dress swished around her legs as she moved, and the light touch of soft fabric against her skin made her lips twitch into a small smile.

She had been looking forward to Regan's recital since the younger girl had asked her to go. She'd also been wondering what the night would hold since she and Tristan would be firmly ingrained in each other's personal space for much of the night instead of the brushes they'd had thus far. The very idea promised a deliciously interesting evening.

As she pulled the door open, the sight that met her was more than pleasant as well. The first time she had met Tristan, he'd been wearing a tux and looked very fit, but he filled his suit more than well tonight. The dark colors only added to the heat and power that he wore like a cloak, effortlessly, and the blue made his eyes look even moreso.

"Tristan," she murmured in greeting as her eyes came to his, stepping back so as to let him inside. "Do come in." Her mouth curled into a smile as she continued. "The wards are still set to allow both you and Regan," she pointed out, though she was sure that he'd never take advantage of it as she did his open invitation to Ivy's Run.

"Thank you," Tristan accepted, stepping into the flat and letting the door click closed behind him. "And be that as it may, I believe I shall continue to leave it to you to grant me access to your home when I have occasion to visit." He'd suspected what Gwen's words confirmed, but had no intention of placing himself inside her space without express and situational permission.

His eyes swept over the deep green of the dress she'd chosen for the evening, the color, in addition to the impeccable cut, flattering to her fair skin. "You look absolutely lovely, as always," he observed sincerely, a hint of smile softening his expression.

"It is kind of you to say," Gwen replied, eyes dancing with amusement at their situation. He was aware of her as she him; she could feel the heat around them, their own private fire, and yet they twirled around one another with formalities. "Thank you."

"I would offer refreshments, but I would like to be at Beauxbatons without feeling compelled to rush once we arrive," she said a moment later, taking a step closer to him though she'd yet to enter his personal space.

Inclining his head slightly, Tristan answered, "Tis but the truth, and you've the right of it; seating is generally well orchestrated, but still tends toward nearly seven before everyone is settled." A flicker of memory crossed his face as a thought occurred to him. "I've supposed all this while that I'll not be required to translate this evening - I trust I am not mistaken in that?"

"I know a bit of French," Gwen replied, eyes full of both fire and humor now. She was quite fluent in French, as well as Italian and Spanish. There was always Latin, too, but that was mostly a language for the scholars and study than actual spoken word.

He offered his arm with a subtle bow, her presence already a live, solid thing pressing against his skin like a thickening of air. The feeling would only grow as the night progressed, he knew, and he invited, evenly, "If you're ready, then."

As she slid her hand into the crook of Tristan's arm and stepped up next to him, Gwen could feel her body heat pleasantly as the air seemed to charge in the now very small space between their bodies. It was almost like an electric cloud tingling along her skin and Gwen was both languid from the warmth generated between them, and acutely aware of the absence of any real sensation; a delicious titillation that she was sure would leave her on edge by the night's end.

"I am," she replied, raising her eyes to his, her voice taking on the simmering fire in its low tones.

"Let us be off, then," Tristan decided, carefully not allowing his voice to dip in reaction to Gwen's own near-purr, the swimming darkness in her eyes, or the wave of gooseflesh that had spread across her chest and down her arms as she made contact, even through his sleeve. His one concession to the admittedly enticing display was the subtle warning in his gaze; the game, the tease, was well and good, but would be taken no further. Quite certain that Gwen was aware of the fact, his regard darkened to match hers as he transported them to the gates of Beauxbatons, the look holding until he steered her gently into the grounds of the school, along the covered walkway to the great front doors.

The warmth and light of the lobby surrounded them as they stepped inside, and he bent closer to Gwen as the background noise of chatter also made its existence known, other family members, school friends, and professors of the musicians gathered in the process of being seated for the performance. "Regan will be overjoyed to see you, but she won't be allowed away until after the recital."

Irritation was like spice in an already hot clime; the warning in Tristan's dark gaze having the side effect of making her cross, though she was still painfully aware of him. She knew quite well on her own to hold in the fire she held, both because they were about to be surrounded by people and because there was an unspoken mutual agreement not to fully play this game between them to completion ... yet.

The energy running through her was a restless thing now, and her fingers tightened on his arm just a bit, purposefully channeling some of it into Tristan as he was the source for her irritation. Raising her gaze to his as he spoke, her eyes flashed in her pique before she let it go, her hand relaxing on his arm.

"I figured such would be the case," Gwen answered, keeping her answer short as she was quite sure words, and the exchange of them, with the man whose space she was currently sharing would test her control more than she'd like. She turned her gaze out upon the people milling about then, very much a queen surveying her court.

Gwen's grasp on his arm was suddenly a swarm of angry ants, her annoyance clear in both the touch and the brief lightning strike in her gaze, and Tristan weathered the sharp spike mutely, as he'd provoked it himself. The buzz of mild anger that emanated from her for a few moments was a heady thing, and he filed the information away for possible future use.

Watching her observe the various other inhabitants of the lobby, her manner proud and aloof, a smirk curled his lips unbidden. Gwen was one of few people he'd ever met to be able to hold herself so far above the world while still immersing herself thoroughly in it. Her mien was prideful without quite brushing haughtiness, that which had elevated her to the unnamed position of Queen of Slytherin in her her school days, a title and personage nigh unto legend among the dungeon-dwellers, as there had been none since.

His smirk turning thoughtful, then a touch wicked, he provided, "Her young fellow is likely to put in an appearance this evening, as well, so the visiting period after should prove most... enlightening."

Gwen's irritation disappeared like vapor at the newly offered subject, and a smirk curled her lips in answer to Tristan's. "Such an agreeable way to say you plan on thoroughly intimidating the boy on principle." Her expression softened then as she continued, "though do have a mind to do such discreetly else Regan will be quite pink for the rest of the evening."

"I plan to do no such thing," Tristan countered, his face saying otherwise, "...overtly. I've never met him, and from what Regan's said, and hasn't said, the lad has a good head on his shoulders." He smiled properly at Gwen's mention of Regan's tendency to blush at the slightest stimulus. "She will be, regardless; she's playing for an audience you'll be part of. I only hope there aren't too many other performers between her first and second pieces, or she'll be sore from holding back her shaking enough to play again."

"Even so, she'll have another whole weekend with her favorite brother to make up for it," Gwen grinned. It was not a pleasant thought that Regan near made herself sick with shyness and nerves, but she was stronger than she gave herself credit for and from what she had observed, Tristan took excellent care of her. Though ... "perhaps, if it's pleasing to you both, I can come for tea Sunday to visit with her as well before she's back at school again?"

Tristan nodded at the suggestion, answering as he guided them toward the doors of the performance hall, "I certainly don't mind, and I can't see Regan objecting, short of never wanting you to leave, even once tea was finished." He considered the proposal on his mind while they filed along into the aisle on which he preferred to be seated, whenever he was in attendance. "I'd nearly say we ought to declare it a habit; Sunday tea on weekends when Regan will be in residence?"

Gwen was glad she was settled in the cushioned chair by the time Tristan had made his suggestion of regular visits; the proposition had halted her many internal thought processes and she couldn't be sure she'd not have been affected similarly in her step had she been still moving. Gwen knew Tristan wasn't a man to make such offers lightly, especially concerning a person who was obviously very dear to him. She had a moment's thought that becoming close to someone wasn't part of her plan, but it was brushed easily aside by the fact that she was rather thrilled by the opportunity of regular visits with Regan. She genuinely liked the young girl and always came away from visits with her calm and tranquil for some reason.

As Tristan settled next to her, Gwen looked up at him. The heat was always there, but it was muted at the moment and her voice was somewhat soft when she answered. "I'd like that, very much."


*************************


Breathing through the sudden onslaught of combined nervous energy and the euphoria of playing, and playing well, in front of such a large group of people, Regan hid her hands in the flowing skirt of her dress after storing her cello safely backstage, and descended the steps leading into the auditorium. It took only a moment to spot her brother's broad shoulders, even in the crowd milling about talking and greeting the students for whom they'd attended, and she hurried in his direction, edging carefully around the clusters of people.

Her head was buzzing with the wash of reactionary emotion, dulling the chatter in the air around her. She was grateful for her pieces being set so closely together, as she'd had only a few minutes of needing to compose herself to walk back onto the stage, but the slowly ebbing tension was countered by the flutter in her stomach at two potential members of the audience. Luc had insisted, in his quiet way, that he would attend, though Regan had pointed out that Tristan would be there as well and would likely feel the need to make acquaintance, and Gwen's acceptance of her invitation had been ringing in her ears all week. Shaking herself out of the cloud of thought, she reached Tristan's side as he turned to find her, blessing her with a smile he so rarely showed in public.

"Perfect, Snowdrop," Tristan praised, pulling his sister into his arms and bending to kiss the top of her head. He felt her relax, caught the relieved little sigh into his jacket, and tipped her face up after a moment, his smile still lighting his eyes. "Shall I keep your flowers a bit longer, or do you want to carry them?" he asked, referring to the miniaturized bouquet of roses he always brought, a mix of pink and white, currently still in their florist's box in his jacket pocket.

Regan shook her head at his question, gathering the words in her mind through the pleasant haze of comfort emanating from Tristan. "I couldn't hold them," she whispered, reluctantly allowing him to move back a step.

A flash of green caught her eye, and a shy smile formed slowly on her lips as she realized Gwen had had been standing with her brother. "You came," she said softly, a hint of disbelief in her voice, though the evidence was there before her. "You look so beautiful," she added airily, unthinking, lost momentarily in the fact that Gwen was actually there.

A soft smile pulled at Gwen's lips as she watched Regan settle in her brother's arms, the small startle running through the young girl's body as she noticed her. "I came," she acknowledged with a small nod, "as I said I would."

She wanted to pull Regan close to her again, comfort the obvious aftereffects of her time on stage away. As she was tucked quite close to Tristan, her ideal safe place, Gwen reached out and gently squeezed one of Regan's still-shaky hands instead. "Thank you." Her smile touched her eyes then, "and your music was beautiful, almost as lovely as you look tonight." Releasing Regan's hand, Gwen tugged on a ringlet, fingers brushing affectionately across Regan's pink cheek as she pulled away. "I like the curls," she said a moment later, voice warm.

"Oh," Regan started, having forgotten entirely that her hair was any different than usual. She colored further at the compliments, eyes dropping away from Gwen's briefly. "Lissette did it for me." She glanced up to Tristan, adding as an aside, "I think she's speaking to me again," before turning back to Gwen, fairly beaming with pleasure. "You enjoyed the recital, then? I thought Priya was ever so wonderful... she always is... she'll be offered a symphony spot when she leaves school."

Gwen chuckled as she replied, "yes, I enjoyed it, very much. And yes, Priya was very talented, though the piece you both played together would not have been half so wonderful if you weren't also very talented, Regan." Gwen raised her eyes to Tristan's then, ever aware of his presence, before bringing her gaze back to the blushing girl between them.

"Thank you," came the whisper, her hand fluttering absently at her side as Regan started to feel antsy under all the attention. "And I'm glad you aren't sorry you came. It's not quite as grand as Paris, I'm afraid," she joked lightly, torn between wanting to anchor herself to Tristan, which he'd stopped allowing her to do as much, and being pulled toward Gwen by something she couldn't explain. She'd nearly moved to hug the woman when Tristan had stepped away to make a bit of space between them, retaining only her trembling hand, but wasn't sure such a thing was acceptable outside of Ivy's Run.

Gwen had touched her, though, and to keep herself from overthinking the action, Regan slipped her hand free of her brother's and shifted to wrap her arms around Gwen. Though they had been standing closely enough together that it was no great distance to cover, hardly a long step, the sensation was one of changing spheres - out of the space of calm quiet that always surrounded her brother and into something else; no less peaceful to her, but different. She found herself wondering what it would be like to stretch a hand out to each of them, whether the two influences would mesh or one would overpower the other.

Brows rising as Regan tugged her hand from his, only to insinuate herself firmly into Gwen's personal space, Tristan observed both of the females in his company with mild curiosity. His sister was not possessed of a tendency to touch people casually, as he was not, though her habit was one of intense shyness instead of simple reserve, and yet she had removed herself from his side to hug Gwen. Having been witness to the easy closeness of their last visit at Ivy's Run, he didn't try to suppress the smile that curled his lips as Gwen returned the embrace, causing the tension to leave Regan's shoulders instantly.

Gwen would be lying if she said she wasn't surprised Regan pulled away from Tristan and wrapped herself around her. Her arms were around the younger girl before she much thought about it and Gwen held her tightly for a long moment, pulling back enough a few moments later to look at her. "Much better than Paris, I think," she answered to Regan's almost-joke. She was vaguely aware of the people milling about them, but Tristan's electric heat trickled across her, them, hot and pleasant; safe, all at once.

Regan smiled brilliantly up at Gwen, trying her hardest to be still, though she wanted to dance in her happiness. Gwen had come specifically to hear her play, and seemed to be pleased that she had done so, and had not pushed her away for so rudely invading her space for a hug. The resultant hum of joy blanked most of her surroundings, leaving a cloudy little bubble containing just the three of them, and as she never had, since it was often the case around her brother, Regan didn't mind. It had never occurred to her to be frightened of the sensation, as Tristan was there and would look after her, and the same type of safety permeated the immediate area around Gwen, leaving her to relax and bask in the lovely delight bubbling forth as she was held.

"Perhaps there will be a time for the symphony, later," Tristan suggested, voice low but clear enough to carry over the muffled din around them. He was nearly certain that Regan's complete focus, intense as it could be, would not unnerve Gwen, but offered the anchor regardless, knowing Regan would be hazy until she was home and away from the crowd for a while.

Regan's smile was as sudden and brilliant as the sunshine and Gwen was happy to see it. She'd been tense and peaky when she'd reached them and now she was fair glowing. Brushing a soft kiss across her brow, Gwen let her arms slip from the girl, though she still held one of Regan's hands, keeping her near.

Her eyes found Tristan's then. "The symphony would be lovely, as we've all admitted to enjoyment of it, but perhaps back to Ivy's Run for now?" The recital had taken its toll on Regan and it was more than apparent that it was time for her to be home. They were supposed to have met her admirer, but she was of a mind to make it hold until another day. Gwen would be back to Beauxbatons, a visit for tea next time she was in Paris.

Nodding his assent to Gwen's hint, Tristan started to say that they should collect Regan's things, pausing as his sister's expression changed, her gaze drawn partially away from either of them and into the crowd. Her eyes, suddenly slightly wide, flicked to his own, then away again, and he followed her line of sight to see a tall lad approaching them. This, then, is Luc, he surmised. "Bonsoir," he greeted, switching to French, though it was likely unnecessary.

Her breath catching slightly as she caught sight of Luc heading toward them, Regan couldn't help looking to her brother, nervous about the exchange to come. Do play nicely, Trist, she prayed, her hand gripping Gwen's reflexively as Luc offered a soft smile before turning his attention to her brother.

"Good evening," Luc replied in English, very lightly accented. He nodded to Gwen politely, then to Regan, and addressed Tristan once more. "May I speak with you, sir?"

"You may," Tristan accepted. He turned to Gwen and his sister, reaching out to clasp Regan's shoulder gently, pulling her attention instantly and fully to himself. "Go and get your things, so we can be home sooner rather than later. I imagine Gwen wouldn't mind meeting Savina, if she's still around, as well."

As Tristan spoke to Regan, Gwen took measure of the the handsome boy waiting patiently. She'd seen the smile he'd offered Regan, the manners he had in greeting them all thereafter, and that he looked Tristan in the eye when he asked to speak with him. He'll do.

Tristan's eyes met hers as he finished speaking with Regan, and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod, gaze hot on his a moment before she squeezed Regan's hand in reassurance and pulled the girl towards the staircase from which she'd come. "Let's collect your cello, and perhaps I can meet the infamous Savina, dear one."

Fully aware that she'd been dismissed, Regan allowed Gwen to lead her in the direction of the stairs backstage with a murmur of "All right," purposely not looking back toward her brother. Tristan wouldn't be awful, she knew, as he was always at least civil, and she'd carefully let him know that she was fond of Luc. Repeating that to herself as Gwen wound their way through the maze of people, towing her by the hand, only helped a little. It took only a moment to find her cello and valise in the semi-darkness behind the curtains, and she ducked under the strap of her bag, tugging her hair clear of it, and hefted the cello case by its handle, then returned to Gwen's side.

She'd registered the use of a pet name in her direction belatedly, as they were walking, and it erased the tiny frown she'd been wearing as Regan looked up at the woman beside her. "Savina's holding court on the stage, if you'd like me to introduce you," she volunteered quietly.

"If you'd like me to meet her, then I'd love to," Gwen replied with a soft smile. Regan was distracted, a little tense; introductions might provide something else to put her mind on while her young man and Tristan talked.

Much as she loathed actually stepping onto the stage, Regan nodded and crept along under the mercifully dimmed lights, waiting a moment as a parent finished speaking to her teacher and cleared off before moving into Savina's line of vision. "Bonsoir," she began, slipping easily into French as the petite woman turned to greet them. "Savina, I would like you to meet a guest of mine; this is Gwen Jones, who came to hear me play tonight. Gwen, Savina Boucher, who has taught me music for many years now."

"Bonsoir proffeseur Boucher" Gwen greeted, inclining her head as her arm crossed behind Regan's back, hand resting lightly on her shoulder. "Well met after such a lovely display of well-tutored pupils."

"Comment charmant!" Savina chirped brightly, face aglow with pleasure at the compliment. "Many thanks, and how nice to meet a guest of Regan's! She has always been a model musician, is it not so, petite?" Laughing merrily at Regan's blush, she waved her hand in the direction of the auditorium, "I saw your brother this evening as well, did I not? He is quite hard to miss."

Regan nodded, glancing out over the people still gathered for just a second before thinking better of the idea as her stomach fluttered, quickly turning back to her teacher, grateful for Gwen's presence. "He is here. He sent me to collect my things, so that we might say goodnight." And to get me out of the way while he talks to Luc.

"Then you have said it, and fulfilled your duty, my dear," Savina acknowledged, tapping Regan's cheek lightly with a finger. "And I will see you Tuesday, no? I would love to delay you longer, but I fear must not keep Priya's father waiting. He wishes to discuss her grand plans for the symphony. Keep your handsome brother busy this weekend, little flower, and I hope I will see you at future recitals, Ms. Jones." She flitted off after flashing them a blinding smile, and Regan subsided fractionally into Gwen's arm around her shoulder.

"That was Savina," Regan said after a few breaths.

"Quite a whirlwind," Gwen commented, almost dryly, eyes searching the crowded auditorium for Tristan. It was time to go, now. Regan was more than spent for the evening.


Meanwhile ...


Tristan watched Gwen lead Regan away, a trace of smile crossing his lips at the image. Pulling his attention back to the young man at his side, he was silent for a moment of observation, which he had to admit the boy weathered admirably, finally stating, in a tone brooking no argument, "You're courting my sister."

Regarding Tristan evenly, Luc nodded. "I am. Do you object?"

The blunt question caused Tristan's lips to quirk into something almost like humor, and he inclined his head in accession. "I don't, so long as you continue to treat her well. She speaks highly of you, and from your presence this evening I see you have sense enough to know that she is rather different from most of your schoolmates. I would thank you, as well, for your role in solving the Atherton problem."

"Atherton is a troll," Luc scowled, schooling his expression into something more neutral a beat later. "I was only too happy to help; I do not see how anyone could but treat Regan well, though I suppose there is his example at hand." A smile bloomed on his face as his thoughts drifted to the tiny blonde he'd become enamored of. "She is different, yes, but this is why she is so wonderful." Raising his eyes to Tristan's again, though the disparity in their heights was not great, he asked, "Shall I understand, then, that the necessary insinuation that if I hurt her, you will have me killed, has been completed?"

One eyebrow arched, Tristan leaned slightly closer, voice low but laced with amusement. "I would do it myself," he informed the lad, offering a proper smile as he straightened, "but yes, I am satisfied for the time being. Let us go and find the women, so that you may say goodnight."


SUMMARY: Tristan escorts Gwen to Regan's recital. He also threatens Regan's suitor, as is his duty.