Vespucci Villa

That Sunday evening elsewhere at a marble Italian styled villa, there is a small private gathering of various wizarding families. It was more of a social dinner rather than a party as guests chatter about after a light meal. The men chat in the study, while the women chat in the parlor room. The children and youths wander around playing or simply enjoying themselves.

More on the petite side of things, a young woman with strawberry blonde bobbed hair sighed rather loudly in boredom, it was Tiffany Topsy. She fiddled with her pearl necklace as she watched with envy the younger children laughing as they ran across the lawn and through the gardens chasing each other. She was no allowed to act as she pleased since her second year at Hogwarts. It was rather tiring always acting like a lady in front of guests and society. And unlike Bethanie's patience or Silvia's aloofness, she knew she possessed a bit of a temper and was not quite as good as hiding her feelings as the other two girls were.

Tiffany sighed again and glances around once, before slipping off her shoes and letting out a sigh of pleasure at feeling the feel of cool grass on her silk stocking covered feet. She hated wearing the toe pinching heels that her mother had chosen for her that evening. It was not that she did not love her mother, but her mother tended to go overboard without thinking. But at least, she had been able to escape the women's parlor by persuading her mother to allow her to explore the Vespucci Villa under the pretext that she would one day be the lady of the manor.

Tiffany bends down quickly and picks up her heels before trotting across the grassy lawn. No doubt, the house elves would be aghast at the grass stains that would later this evening be found on her white silk stockings upon her return home. And though she would murmur some sort of apology, but frankly she would much rather enjoy this rare moment of unexpected freedom.

Tiffany begins to wander down a smooth path that led into the magnificent gardens filled with dozens of marble statues and gorgeous, elaborate fountains with water spouting from them. Sadly, there were a great deal many red roses bushes which caused her to wrinkle her nose at the powerful scent. She did not like red roses, but rather orange colored roses.

In her childhood, her mother had taught her the language of flowers, and the unspoken message a flower could tell. However, much to her own and her mother's surprise, Tiffany fell in love with the language of flowers and had spent a great deal of time in the family's gardens studying the flowers and directing the house elves on how to tend to them. And as such ever, since she was eight years old, Tiffany had placed in charge of the landscape of Topsy-Turvey Manor.

As she grew older, a childhood dream was born inside of Tiffany. She did not desire red roses, but rather the promise of a hopeful, and promising future with a yet unknown suitor. It did not take much, but quickly orange roses became her favorite flower, and she had the house elves plant scores of oranges rose bushes throughout the grounds. For in the language of flowers, an orange rose means Desire, Enthusiasm, Creativity, and Fasciation. All traits which she sincerely hoped that a potential future suitor would see and desire in her.

However, those childhood dreams began to slowly wither away ever since in her second year upon learning that Vasco Vespucci was her betrothed. And slowly that dream suffocated more and more until there was nothing left of it not even a single root. There was nothing left of that dream, but ashes and dust.

And so, with that heart-wrenching realization, Tiffany had ordered the house elves to dig up all the orange bushes from Topsy-Turvey manor unable to bear the bitter reminder of what her future held. Instead, she had them plant yellow Carnations and Cyclamens. The yellow Carnations to scream her disappointment to the world, and the Cyclamen's pronouncing the solemn goodbye to her childhood hopes and dreams. It would serve as a reminder to herself to never allow herself to so foolishly ever dream again.

Feeling rather ill from the heavily perfumed scent of red roses, Tiffany decides to rest in a little hedge nook that hides a small fountain with a mermaid statute flickering her tail playfully at the tiny stone sea creatures below scurrying in the water. Putting down her shoes, she sits down on the edge of the water fountain and barely skims the fountain waters with her fingertips teasing the small, vibrant colored fish swimming in the depths of the crystal-clear fountain waters.

Soon Tiffany is lost in her own thoughts and retracts her hand hiding it into the folds of her skirt. It was not that she hated or was angry with her father, but she just wished that her papa had chosen someone else for her. Not that she was not grateful at his choice for she knew she was rather lucky in being betrothed to someone with wealthy, youth, and in general possessed an even-tempered disposition. It is just, well, she was not looking forward to the string of mistresses she would have to contend with in the future.

Tiffany knew that she was far from perfect and was in fact rather emotional to a certain extent. It is just that she could not bear the thought of being married to Vasco with such stark loneliness looming over their marriage without even the comfort of someone who she could at least consider a friend. But she knew that without a doubt over the passing of time, she would turn bitter and cold, and possibly even resentful. And when the children were born to them, what would she be like? Would she truly remain kind or would she become cold and distant or worse abusive?

Tiffany lets out a self-deprecating laugh when she hears a musical feminine voice say, "A knut for your thoughts, dear sister-in-law?"

Tiffany instantly removes her hand from the pool of water and glances up. There standing before her is an hourglass figure. It is a dark-haired witch with long trailing tresses, dark eyes, and an olive-skinned, Emalia Vespucci, the older sister of Vasco. Unlike her younger brother, Emalia took more after their father's appearance, but still retained her mother's beauty.

"Hello Emalia," Tiffany said as she dried her hand in her skirts and curtsied.

Emalia's sensual dark lips twitch into an enchanting smile. "And what has you so very amiss this evening, caro mio?" Emalia muttered as she sat down next to her future sister-in-law.

Tiffany is quiet for a moment, before saying, "I saw your friend again, this evening, the ever lovely, Carina. It would seem that she will in fact be Vasco's permanent mistress which I will have to contend with over Vasco's affections upon our marriage.

Emalia chuckles and waves her hand dismissively in the air. "She is merely a lover, caro mio, nothing more. He will marry you and only you when the time comes."

"I know that," Tiffany coolly said. "However, I would rather not place all of my eggs into one basket."

Emalia's lips curl into a rueful smile. "Ma cher, you worry too much," Emalia confidently said as she eyed the beautiful flowers in the distance. "Carina knows her place, caro mio, and poses no threat to you. But most importantly, Mamma, and Babbo, will always side with you over a simple mistress."

Tiffany, however, does not discount the possibility of such a thing occurring. She had been raised in pureblood circles all her life. And yet, she had seen or heard of tales which seemed to be too fantastical to be true, and yet were. But importantly she was a Slytherin, and a Slytherin always sought self-preservation above all things.

Tired of speaking to Emalia regarding the same subject, Tiffany instead remarks, "It is a shame, that we did not see you this past year at Hogwarts during the Tournament."

"Yes," Emalia sighed. "It is a shame, but I was one year too young to participate."

She had her parents were quite dismayed as this would have granted her the unique opportunity to encounter all the eligible bachelor's in attendance at Hogwarts. Surely, there must be one or two, who would succumb to her wiles. Not that she needed to be a seductress, but it could never hurt to play coy.

"Indeed," Tiffany muttered drily ignoring the pouting lips of Emalia. "But the Beauxbatons champion was a good contender."

"Oui," Emalia muttered. "We were quite proud of Jean Delacour. And though he lost, he did his best."

"Mm," Tiffany only hummed in reply.

Rising back to her feet, Emalia extends her hand to Tiffany. "Shall we go for a walk?"

Tiffany in a practiced fluid motion slips her shoes onto her feet and intertwining her arm with that of Emalia. Emalia's hand felt quite cool despite the warm weather, no doubt, thanks to a cooling charm. However, it did nothing for Tiffany except cause a chill of shivers to run down her in back in warning.

Still, Tiffany did not believe in divination itself, but rather in arithmancy. But that did not mean that omens were not to be taken seriously, they were part of a magical society after all. Glancing upward, she glimpses a tiny brown-colored bird flitting up above on a breeze, before vanishing. Sparrows are harbingers of change including death to some.