Chapter 3
Cyrus Abbott Pov:
Two days later, an owl bearing the Ashworth crest swooped into the breakfast room of Abbott Manor.
Lord Cyrus Abbott nearly dropped his teacup. He had sent the courtship profile for his youngest daughter, Sara, to a dozen respectable houses, more out of a sense of grim duty than genuine hope.
He had, on a whim, included the House of Ashworth in the mailing, a move his wife had called "an optimistic long shot." Cyrus had simply called it "covering all the bases." He never truly expected a reply.
He broke the seal with trembling fingers. His eyes scanned the formal, elegant script. Lord Ashworth was accepting his proposal.
He was inviting Cyrus and his daughter Sara to a formal meeting at the Starfall Town Hall. In two days. Cyrus let out a whoop of unrestrained joy that sent the family Kneazle hissing under the sideboard. He was ecstatic.
Lady Magic, you do enjoy your little jokes, he thought, a wide grin splitting his face. He had been so worried. The marriage market was a veritable minefield this season.
His own political allies in the Progressive Bloc were of little help. The Prewetts had their children's futures mapped out in contracts before they could even cast a proper Shield Charm.
House Davies had sons, but they were either too old for Sara or still years away from Hogwarts. The Shafiqs had no one available at all. It was a mess.
He'd had sleepless nights dreading the prospect of fielding offers from the Traditionalist families, fending off proposals that would make his daughter miserable. He would never force Sara into a loveless, or worse, cruel, union.
And now this. A letter from House Ashworth. They were, in the grand, unspoken hierarchy of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, a world away from his own house in terms of wealth, history, and political power.
It would have been no surprise, no insult, for Lord Ashworth to have simply burned his proposal without a second thought. But here was a formal, respectful invitation.
Lord Jason Mikael Ashworth. A formidable prospect. Though relatively young at twenty-five, the man had been Lord of his House for nine years and had not buckled under the pressure.
He commanded immense respect, not just for his title, but for his work as the Mayor of Starfall. He had strong, well-established ties with the most powerful Light families—the Potters and the Longbottoms—and the influential neutral Greengrasses and Montagues.
His academic and practical prowess was undisputed, with dual Masteries in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Curse-Breaking, and a portfolio of published, peer-reviewed articles that were cited in NEWT-level textbooks.
And, if the society pages were to be believed, he was quite the handsome specimen. He was, in short, perfect for his little girl.
Sara Abbott POV:
Sara Abbott was trying, and failing, to remain calm. She sat in her bedroom, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as her mother helped her choose a set of appropriate but elegant robes. Excited didn't even begin to cover it. A swarm of Flitterby Moths seemed to have taken up residence in her stomach.
Jason Ashworth. She remembered him from Hogwarts with the vivid clarity unique to a first crush. He had been in his seventh year when she was in her third; a chasm of age and status that had made him seem as unattainable as the moon.
He had been the Head Boy, a figure of authority and quiet confidence, but without the arrogance that so many in his position displayed. He was handsome, with that shocking white hair and warm, honey-coloured eyes.
He was brilliant, a certifiable genius in Defence. And Merlin, he was wicked with a wand. She'd once seen him, during a duelling club demonstration, disarm Professor Flitwick himself, earning a booming laugh and a hearty congratulations from the diminutive Charms Master. Sara and her friends had swooned behind their hands for a week.
He was an Ashworth. One of the most powerful, respected, and sought-after families in the country. She, a second daughter from a lesser, albeit respected, house, never imagined she would be anything more than a face in the crowd to him. Then he had graduated, and she had assumed she would only ever see him from a distance at Ministry functions or social galas. And now… now, he was interested in her.
A wave of profound relief washed over her, chasing away some of the nervous moths. She had been secretly terrified of the courtship process. What if her father had been forced to consider someone like Abraxas Malfoy? Thankfully, the blond ponce had married last year, but there were others of his ilk.
Or, Merlin forbid, someone from the Lestrange family. The thought sent a shiver of pure dread down her spine. Her father would never allow it, she knew, but the fear had lingered. Now, the best-case scenario she hadn't even dared to dream of was unfolding before her.
She might end up betrothed to the handsome, brilliant, kind Head Boy she'd crushed on all those years ago.
The Floo connection to Starfall was always clear and smooth, a testament to the town's superior magical infrastructure. Sara and her father stepped out of a public fireplace into the bustling terminal, the low hum of the magical city washing over them.
They had been to Starfall dozens of times over the years—for shopping in Emberdale Avenue, for consultations at the Healers Hall, or simply for a day out. It was a marvel of magical urban planning, the unofficial capital of their world.
It had the vibrant, thrumming energy of a miniature London, its streets filled with a diverse and busy populace.
They made their way to Everard Square. The Town Hall stood proudly in the centre, a symbol of Ashworth governance for the last five centuries. Its grand doors opened into a spacious, sunlit atrium. A calm, professional witch at a reception desk greeted them with a polite smile.
"Good morning. We are Lord and Miss Abbott. We have an eleven o'clock meeting with Lord Ashworth."
"Of course," the receptionist said, consulting a large ledger. "He is expecting you. If you'll follow me."
She escorted them to a lift enchanted to rise silently through the building. Sara's heart hammered against her ribs. This was it.
Jason Ashworth POV:
Jason was nervous. He straightened his robes for the tenth time, ran a hand through his hair, then immediately regretted it, trying to smooth it back down. He had faced down rogue curse-breakers in forgotten tombs and debated belligerent old lords in the Wizengamot without breaking a sweat.
So why did the prospect of a simple introductory meeting feel like he was about to duel a Hungarian Horntail?
Get a grip, Ashworth. It's a conversation. You do this all the time.
But it wasn't the same. This wasn't politics or business. This was… personal. He had never done this before. In the hazy daydreams of his youth, he had always imagined this process being facilitated by his parents.
He would have been the reluctant son, moaning and whining the whole way, while his father gave him stern lectures on duty and his mother cooed about what a lovely girl she'd found. What? That's how he thought it would go! It was a childish fantasy, but it was a comforting one. One where he wasn't doing this all alone.
He loved his duties, all of them, from budget approvals to ward maintenance. But opening himself up like this, laying his personal future on the line, had always been harder for him. He loved, and he loved hard, with the full, unwavering force of his being.
The thought of being let down, of that absolute devotion being betrayed, was terrifying. He'd seen enough petty breakups and dramatic rows during his Hogwarts years, but it was the whispers of cheating that had truly stuck with him, that had lodged in his mind like a shard of ice. He'd seen the aftermath—the hollowed-out eyes, the public humiliation, the destruction of trust. It terrified him.
Maybe I have commitment issues, he mused, pacing his office. No, that's not right. It's the opposite. He had an overabundance of commitment. He believed in the sanctity of a vow, in the absolute nature of a partnership. He could handle arguments and petty disagreements; they were just bumps in the road. He could even, he thought, handle the idea of his love passing on. The grief would be immense, but he would know their time together had been cherished and true. But cheating? His wife willingly finding comfort in the arms of another? Man or woman, it didn't matter. He would never be able to forgive that. It was a breach of faith he knew he could not survive.
A soft knock on the door jolted him from his spiralling thoughts.
"Lord Ashworth? Lord Abbott and Miss Abbott are here."
Showtime. "Send them in," he called, his voice steadier than he felt. He took his place behind his desk, a futile attempt to project authority and calm. He just hoped this went well.
The door opened, and Lord Abbott entered, beaming. Jason stepped forward to greet him. "Lord Abbott, a pleasure. Thank you for coming."
"The pleasure is all mine, Lord Ashworth," Cyrus replied, shaking his hand firmly.
And then she stepped in behind her father, and the world tilted on its axis. Jason froze. The simple, pretty photograph in the folder had been a gross injustice. Sara Abbott was beautiful, but it was a quiet, unassuming beauty that took a moment to register and a lifetime to forget. Her warm brown eyes held a spark of intelligence and kindness, and when she smiled nervously at him, his carefully constructed composure evaporated into thin air. She was a goddess.
"Lord Ashworth," she said, her voice soft and melodic.
He swore she had the voice of an angel. He blinked, realizing he was staring. "Miss Abbott," he managed, his own voice sounding rougher than usual. "Welcome to Starfall."
Sara was equally stunned. The handsome boy from her memories had matured into a devastatingly attractive man. He was taller than she remembered, his shoulders broader under his fine, tailored robes. The aristocratic lines of his face were sharper, more defined, but his golden-honey eyes were just as warm as she recalled. When he smiled, a genuine, slightly nervous smile, the last of the Flitterby Moths in her stomach calmed, replaced by a pleasant, hopeful warmth.
After a few moments of slightly stilted small talk about their journey, they settled into the chairs before his desk.
"I must admit, Lord Ashworth, I was quite shocked to have received your missive. I had not believed that you might have even considered House Abbott when… pursuing your matrimonial prospects." Lord Abbott says.
"House Ashworth has never concerned itself with status and prestige overly much, Lord Abbott. We have always looked more towards ideal personal matches than mere political matches." Jason replies strongly.
Lord Abbott sits a bit taller; he knows this, but the rest of society will never see it that way. House Ashworth is perhaps the most powerful family in Magical Britain, running Britain's largest magical settlement in the country.
"I have heard of your accomplishments, Lord Ashworth, a five-time international duelling champion, 2 masteries, and a published researcher, quite the feat at such a young age. Truly impressive." Lord Abbott praises, very impressed.
"Jason, please, Lord Abbott. I have always been comfortable without formalities, and in regard to my accomplishments, those don't hold the same weight to me. Starfall will always hold a special place in my heart. My House will always be my shining star." Jason replied passionately.
It wasn't a lie either. His ancestors built a place where magicals could live freely and safely, and now he gets to be a part of that legacy. How could that not be special to him? He suspects that when he has children one day, that will take the cake as his greatest achievement and his wife his greatest treasure… but he has neither right now, soo…you know.
"Well, if we are doing away with formalities, then please, call me Cyrus, Jason." Cyrus replies, smiling.
He likes this young man. Passionate, warm, driven. A good man. Powerful and smart. Yes, an ideal match.
However, duty calls and formality is required.
The mood shifted. "Shall we, Lord Ashworth?" Cyrus said, his tone becoming more formal.
Jason nodded, grateful to be on solid ground. "Of course."
They began to negotiate.
The clauses were laid out, one by one.
A strict fidelity clause, which Jason insisted upon and Lord Abbott readily agreed to.
The standard expectation of one heir and a spare to continue the line.
The dowry, to be paid by House Abbott, was set at a generous twenty thousand Galleons.
A formal courtship period of six months, to allow them to know one another before a betrothal was finalised.
Other, smaller clauses were discussed and agreed upon with professional courtesy.
Once the parchment was signed and sealed by both Lords, Jason felt a palpable sense of relief. The business was done. "Excellent," he said, standing up. "Now that the formalities are out of the way, I would be honoured if you would allow me to treat you both to lunch. I know a place just off Horizon Alley."
As they walked through the bustling streets of Starfall, Jason relaxed into his more familiar role as Mayor. He was greeted at every turn by the townspeople.
"Morning, Lord Ashworth!"
"Jason! The new paving stones on Emberdale are a marvel, my wife hasn't tripped once this week!"
"Lord Mayor, you have to come try my new batch of pumpkin pasties!"
He smiled, laughed, and exchanged pleasantries with men, women, and children. As they passed a small park, a group of young children, none older than eight or nine, spotted them. One particularly brave little boy with a smattering of freckles pointed a grubby finger.
"Lord Jason's got a girlfriend!" he yelled. The others joined in, making smooching noises.
Jason just laughed, a deep, genuine sound. "Behave, you lot!" he called back good-naturedly. "And be safe!"
Sara watched the exchange, stunned. She had never seen a Lord of a great house act with such easy, relaxed familiarity among his people. She knew this was his town, but the interactions were so… normal. It was utterly charming.
Her father, meanwhile, was stunned for an entirely different reason when they turned into a quiet, elegant courtyard and stopped before the doors of 'The Alchemist's Table'.
It was one of the most exclusive and sought-after restaurants in Magical Britain.
Getting a reservation often took months of planning, if one could get one at all.
He knew for a fact that Lord Malfoy had been trying and failing to secure a table there for the last year.
Cyrus couldn't wait to casually mention his delightful lunch in the next Wizengamot meeting, just to see the look on Lord Brutus' face.
The moment they were seated, the magic happened. Jason and Sara started talking, and they simply didn't stop.
They moved effortlessly from shared memories of Hogwarts—of Professor Kettleburn's escaped Fire Crabs and the legendary stodginess of Binns's lectures—to what they had been doing since they'd left school.
Then, the conversation deepened. Jason, seeing the pin on her robe from the Magical Herbology Society, asked her a question about the cross-breeding of Venomous Tentacula and Mandrakes.
Sara, in turn, parried with a surprisingly insightful question about the theoretical application of the Patronus Charm as a non-lethal curse-breaker's tool.
They were lost to the world, enraptured with each other, debating advanced defence theory and complex Herbology principles with a shared passion that left Lord Abbott smiling quietly into his wine glass.
It was incredible.
All too soon, the lunch was over. As they stood at the Floo terminal, a tangible reluctance hung in the air. Jason didn't want her to leave. He wanted to keep talking, to spend the rest of the afternoon walking with her through the town, to learn everything about her.
"I had a wonderful time, Lord Ashworth," Sara said, her eyes shining.
"Please," he said, his voice softer than he intended. "Call me Jason."
A beautiful blush coloured her cheeks. "Jason. Then you must call me Sara."
He smiled. "I look forward to our next meeting, Sara."
As Jason walked back towards the Town Hall alone, the afternoon sun warming his face, he was no longer the nervous, dread-filled man from the morning.
He felt light, hopeful.
A small, heartwarming smile played on his lips. He thought of the portraits of his parents in his study, and he hoped they approved.
He knew it was ridiculously early, that this was just the first meeting.
But he couldn't help the feeling blooming in his chest.
This might be the one. He didn't care if it was just a crush for now, or if it might grow into something more.
All he knew for certain was that he really, truly couldn't wait to see her again.