luxe - h. j. p.

one

Veronica Juliana Luxe. That is who I am. Veronica Juliana Luxe. All I will ever be.

My grandfather taught my father, my father taught me: the Luxe family name is not to be tarnished. By no circumstance will people see trouble, hurt, fear in the eyes of the Luxe family. But that was before everything happened. Before my father died, sad, angry, and lonely in the alley, and my mom was finally happy.

To start explaining from the beginning would take too long. Time, I have learned, is valuable, and always comes at a price. Instead, I will show you.

"Veronica, come downstairs, quickly! Before your father gets home." Evanna Luxe, in a frenzy to put her only child, her daughter, her life, to sleep before her husband came home. Silver whirls out of a wand, magic in the air. Giggles, smiles, hair brushed and curled to perfection. "Mummy, why? It's only right after supper." Veronica Luxe, age 9, the naive and innocent, and the last of the Luxe bloodline. Oh, the bliss of ignorance. The pleasure of inexperience. The unawareness of pain. "It's no time to ask questions, darling. Now, off to bed with you." A kiss on the cheek, a wink from the bottom of the stairs. At least she was safe. The door, it's wood traumatized from all it had witnessed, creaks open threateningly. "Evanna." Julian Luxe, pureblood, bred to get what he wants, when he wants it. Leaning against the doorframe, waiting, waiting. "Evanna. Come." She goes to him, the way she always has, the way she always will. "Julian, who was it today? Let me guess, Cassandra and Jack from next door?" He ignores her, she helps him to the table in his office. His territory. His place. There is no hurt in her voice. Hurt has no place in routine. Routine gets old, and if it's old, it's not an open wound. It's not hurt. "Ah, I know," she says, cleaning his bloodied knuckles with a charmed cloth and pouring coffee. Black coffee, disgusting but sobering. "Maria. She always had that warm cinnamon scent, did she not? It's all over you tonight, no surprise there. But she has no husband. Who caught you, her brother?" All he does is look at her with that gaze, the one she used to love, the one she now fears. "You knew he was in town for her birthday. You know how he feels about you, he's been transparent about it since our school days." Julian, indifferent about her approach to the long-dreaded conversation, closes his eyes. "It wasn't Henry, no. Evanna, why must you bring this up here, now? Is Veronica sleeping?" Annoyance in his voice. Go back, too far. "Veronica is fine. As for bringing it up here, now? Because it has gone on long enough. The first few times hurt, Julian," Again with the word 'hurt'. No longer, past tense, over. "But now, what do I say to Veronica, to my parents? That my husband is out with a different woman every week, that he has no intention of being who he promised?" Too far. "And not to mention the reputation you try so hard to protect, tarnished by all the gentlemen lining up to get any form of revenge for what you've done?" Too far, and recognized too late. Julian gets up and throws his coffee cup, shattering it against the wall. Shards of French porcelain all over the carpet, shards of one's once mended heart, now scattered. "Don't speak to me like that Evanna. You do not understand what I am capable of, nor what I have been doing." Stepping closer to her. Cinnamon fills her senses, a reminder that he is not hers, and never was. Her tears, refusing to fall. Don't back down. Too far, too late. "What have you been doing then, Julian? Are you going to lie to me one more time?" A hit, a curse, a fall. A child, aged 9, at the door. "Father? What are you doing?" Veronica, too far. Too late. Julian won't look away from Evanna, won't acknowledge his daughter. Evanna won't get up, can't get up. Veronica won't leave, not until she gets her mother safe. Safe, safe, safe. Too far, too late. "Father, what's happened to mummy? Is she alright?" "Veronica, go upstairs. I'll take care of you in a minute. Your mother is fine. Just tired. Tired, yes." Julian in a haze, Veronica sees his gaze. The one her mother fears. One she herself does not, not yet. "Father, what happened in here? I'm scared, I don't want to be alone." Veronica moving closer, too far, too late. The shards of heart, of French porcelain, picked up, but neither put back together. The shards of heart cracked further, the shards of French porcelain thrown. Veronica, too far. Too late. A hit, a curse, a cry. Target found, and met. "Go back to bed, Veronica. You do not understand what I am capable of." Her father, one that should never hurt her, one that did, threatening her. One last look at Evanna. Breathing, good. Alive. Veronica runs. She went too far, and it is too late. Tears, ones that are willing to fall, stain the nightgown, just as the blood does. Nothing too deep, no reminders. Except one. A scar of the past, a memory. One who should've been a father, angry, drunk, lonely. Out of the house, out of his head. Cursing the wind, cursing himself. "No, no. No time." A bottle, that's what he needs. Ardent spirits, found only at the bottom of a flask. Pockets empty, no money, no luck. Not going home, no. Group of people. Laughing loudly. Alley. Bottles.
Bottles. "What do you have?" Julian, desperate for forget, desperate for the past. "Nothing for you, not after you stole my girl." Familiar voice, familiar face. Jack....Jack, meaning Cassandra. Cassandra, next door, smells of Daffodils. Cassandra, not worth the sex or the trouble. "Come on, Jack. It's not like the lovely lady regrets it. I was only making up for you're lack of, well, you know." Julian turns, about to find another place. Another drink. "Watch yourself, Luxe. You do not understand what I am capable of." Julian, not going to back down, not to Jack. Never. "Ah, using my line, are you? What, getting hexed last week wasn't enough for you to know you're place?" Too far, Julian. Too late. Punches, hexes, curses. Unforgivable. Alone in an alley. Sad, angry, and lonely. One last thing to do. "Expecto Patronum." Look at the phoenix, soaring above the sky. Untouchable, unbreakable, all the time in the world. "Veronica, make me proud, darling." Sleep, forever this time. Julian Luxe, a life lived well, until it wasn't.