The Living Room, Through the East Entrance

[Cerise Lafayette]

<There was a hush in the room.>

<Cherry was not - NOT - supposed to be practicing magic at home. They started teaching young at Avalon, and she could already make lights and unlock doors - the first from practice at school, the second from a book she'd borrowed from Jack's library.>

<... Not that he knew that she had the book. But he'd told her once that she was welcome to borrow his books whenever she liked, so... Erm. It was easy to overlook the fact that this one hadn't been in an easy-to-find room hidden in Jack's private wing. Cough.>

<But she was being good, really. Just making a pretty little ball of bright orange light on her fingertip, nothing more. And, well, trying to set fire to one of the logs in the fireplace with it.>

<But really, she wasn't doing anything wrong. Really.>

[Chance Lafayette]

Cerise.

<Regardless of the strength in tone, the barest hints of an amused - proud? - glass smile had flickered onto the pale expanse of cupid's bow lips. Chance leaned against the dual-door entrance idly and watched the slight flicker of orange kiss her fingertip and descend methodically towards the fireplace's inanimate grey ashes. No, she wasn't supposed to be practicing magic at home.>

<Hence the unshortened version of her name and unamused look. Or one that tried to appear unamused.>

[Cerise Lafayette]

<The little glowing ball disappeared at the first intonation of her name, slim shoulders hunching faintly before she stood, brushing off bare knees, and adjusted the tie of her school uniform.>

Hi, Daddy. You're home early.

<A smile that seemed to denote any spell of trouble she might have been in. And it was true - she had his schedule timed down to the very minute. He had three minutes to spare before she would have begun expecting him home from work.>

... I drew you a picture in art class.

<A crumpled and much-folded paper was removed from the skirt pocket, and she moved with that jaunty grace of an eight year old to hold the bit of drawing paper out to her father, those blue eyes wide and innocent.>

[Chance Lafayette]

<Predictable as a single father, he never found it in him to be upset for long. Chance fixed her with a rather telling look before he moved towards the outstretched, childishly folded piece of parchment and took it gently from her hand to his, angled at an easy vantage point. And then, predictably, his eyebrows raised in something not quite embarrassment, not quite surprise.>

And, Cherry.

<He folded it back up, jaw uncharacteristically tight.>

Where would you have gotten the inspiration for this sketch? Nice talent, by the way, you keep getting better. I like the way you .. connected the lips together. Looks very realistic.

<Coughcoughcoughsputterdiedon'tturnred,you'rethefatherfigurehere.>

[Cerise Lafayette]

Ummm...

<The typical little hum she gave when she didn't feel like divulging a particularly juicy little secret, and hands folded neatly before the skirt of her uniform.>

You know. My, uh, imagination.

<No mention of the photograph currently in her top dresser drawer. She was fond of it, actually - there was no way to miss the relationship between her father and Julian's... It was only too obvious in the way they looked at each other. Of course, the photo of them was proof - sweet, really. Jack was sitting at his desk, and Chance was leaning across said furniture to place a prettily chaste kiss on the other man's lips - just the faintest touch, really. Cerise had expunged on that in her drawing, though, manipulating it to where the taller man was nearly sitting on the one in the chair, and their lips... were definitely meeting.>

<The photo, though. She'd kidnapped it from Jack's library. It had been hidden in the bloody thesaurus, mind - she hadn't been snooping.>

[Chance Lafayette]

Pretty interesting imagination you've developed. Say, unrelated, you haven't been into my things, have you?

<The light of his life was a wicked child. To be expected, since she seemed mischevious and about as curious as he'd been at that age, also constantly in the company of boys. Chance, protective as he was, rather disliked the idea of Cerise hanging around Julian Purdue as much as she did.>

[Cerise Lafayette]

Well, um, not recently.

<Not today, she meant. Yesterday, though, she had pilfered a rather pretty looking-glass and a tin of mints that she strongly suspected were Jack's, as they smelled just like him. Oh, and a pretty pink balloon that was remarkably damp even before she blew it up.>

<An innocent and hopeful grin.>

Daddy? This weekend, will you take me and Julian to the zoo? His dad said it was okay...

<Didn't mention that Jack was going too, mind.>

[Chance Lafayette]

Hn.

<Digits bridged as they usually did when he was musing on something, indexes resting just below his chin during a moment of utterly short thought. Zoos were harmless, Chance supposed, and she deserved some sort've break from the Godawful hells of school.>

I'm going to give you a chore list to complete before we go.

<Clearly his parenting style was a sight different from his own upbringing. Cerise's rarely seen grandfather would have backhanded him and asked what the hell he wanted to pay to see a bunch of animals for. A weak smile came up at that .. the list wouldn't be too long at all.>

[Cerise Lafayette]

...

<She thought that over for a moment, one finger raised to plush lips - inherited from her mother, pretty - and tapped on it in the light manner she had seen her teacher do when she was thinking.>

Can Julian help me?

<Cherry would be able to convince him to, she was sure.>

[Chance Lafayette]

No. You can do your chores on your own .. I imagine Rowan'll have him doing his own.

<Or .. Chance hoped he would. It was probably doubtful, considering the boy's father, but Cherry didn't need to know that.>

[Cerise Lafayette]

<The expression was terribly crestfallen, and she reached back, tugging the tip of her braid up to place it between lips, chewing on the ends of her hair lightly.>

Alright.

<Not sulky, merely a bit... well, crestfallen was a good word for it.>

[Chance Lafayette]

Mm.

<It was quite something, relaxing in the presence of an eight year old girl peering at him with the oddest expression - one Chance had made in childhood several times, were he not in the presence of his own father. A casual lean back had his jaw fitting itself to the rest of his palm, vague eyes flitting briefly out towards the window in unconvincing interest. Rather until he saw her .. chewing.>

<Like Jame. Cerise would go to Jame if his job ever got too bad.>

Stop chewing on that. It'll make your hair all tangly. And don't look at me that way .. a little work would do you good. Ethic and stuff.

[Cerise Lafayette]

Mischa brought a really weird balloon to school today. She showed it to me an' Gavin on the playground. It was all slippery. Gavin n' me didn't touch it.

<Cerise wrinkled her nose a little as she dropped her braid, letting the thick length flop against her back with a childish carelessness.>

Can I have some gum?

[Chance Lafayette]

. . .

<Chance would have to let go of some of his instincts if he ever intended to let the girl grow up. Merlin forbid she ever date anyone.>

Yeah. Here.

<A small, green package was picked out of his pocket and single stick pulled from its clan, handed over towards Cerise resignedly. It was time to have a little .. talk with their headmaster. Condoms. Honestly. Not that Chance had ever really so much as looked at one and then thrown it out with a rather ignorant 'fuck that' .. which would explain Cherry's being.>

[Cerise Lafayette]

<She took the stick and unwrapped the silvery foil with all the concentration of a child, careful to refold to wrapper and stick it in one already-bulging pocket, the bit of minty gum stuffed between wide lips and chewed with enthusiasm.>

Daddy, will you read to me?

<Cerise could read perfectly well on her own. But it was much more fun to have her dad read, because, well... It just was.>

[Chance Lafayette]

If you go to sleep and stop playing with condoms, of course. Anything in particular you want?

<The contrast between his work persona and father persona was sickeningly drastic. Had any Death Eater asked him to read to them, Chance would have bludgeoned said offender to a bloody, purple and black death with the book of choice and had good fun kicking the body around. Such thoughts, however, weren't meant for .. this setting. His living room was deceptively peaceful and desolate for what company he'd kept in it before - Cerise was made sure to have her distance. The Dark Lord requested everyone's children join the cause as well, but, he had his own plans.>

<In Slytherin, one's best interests came before the interests of others.>

Gray's Anatomy?

[Cerise Lafayette]

<She sniffed.>

We finished that Friday, daddy. I got these two from the library at the Universidity.

<Cerise pulled a pair of thick books from her bag - the first, a copy of Dante's Inferno in Italian, and the other was War and Peace. She was very fond of the Russian authors; her father didn't know that she'd already gone through Crime and Punishment and Lolita. Disturbing book, that.>

[Chance Lafayette]

<Look at him, a genius daughter. When Cerise was dominating most of the wizarding world and climbing to the top all by herself, he hoped his own miserable bastard of a sexist father would be alive to choke on his own bile; Noemi might have turned out alright if she hadn't had a massive headfuck as a child.>

Sorry, love. I rather like it.

<Read when he had no responsibilities over and over. Very rarely.>

Fine, fine. Hand them over.

[Cerise Lafayette]

<She proferred them with a pretty little smile and yawned, climbing onto the couch with a childish ungainliness that bespoke many years of impending maturity.>

I wanna read the 'talian one, first.

<Legs crossed beneath her body, and she snuggled into a pillow, blinking innocently.>