𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐚¹- hp.

𝐯𝐢. the lord and all his marionettes.

"Is everything alright here?"

Lavinia kept her gaze on Mrs Davis, portraying a blameless facade as she recognized Harry's voice. "Mrs Davis caught the edge of the carpet, mooie jongen. I'm just helping her right herself."

"Oh, let me help." Harry said, rushing forward. He grabbed Mrs Davis other arm, assisting her as she got up, missing the terrified glint in the woman's eyes. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

Mrs Davis said nothing as she hurriedly pulled her wrist from Lavinia's grip, protectively coddling it against her chest. In one rapid movement she was hauling the doors to the church open, only turning around for a brief second to stare at Harry and saying, "The sinister always rise, young man."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked with a bewildered look, wrapping his pinky around Lavinia's.

She shrugged, "Mrs Davis has always been slightly senile, it's nothing to worry about."

"Seems that everyone who attends this church is slightly unhinged." Harry snorted, pacing himself in sync with Lavinia's steps.

"You're telling me, they've always been like this." Lavinia giggled, swinging their hands in a back and forth motion as they left the building.

The trek back to the house was drawn-out, but refreshing; scintillating rays shone directly on them as they walked, forcing them to zig-zag through the shadows of various trees in an attempt to find shade as they wished for a chilled breeze, periodically stopping to admire the gardens because they were so beautiful, and at one point they had even spun in circles as they walked — it had been Lavinia's suggestion and Harry found he could never say no to her — , losing track of time that didn't seem long enough.

Air conditioner was a blessing to the duo once they walked in the door, each of them collapsing onto the couch with glasses of water for a brief few minutes, the whirring of the AC being the only noise bouncing off the walls. When they finished their drinks Harry collected the glasses and placed them in the sink, attempting to find a comfortable position when an idea popped in Lavinia's head.

"Come with me." She abruptly stood up, beckoning him towards the vinyl filled shelves. "Let's listen to something you haven't heard yet."

Harry turned his gaze to the shelf, "Like what?"

"Pick anything that interests you. We've got all the time in the world to listen to everything on this shelf." Lavinia told him, clasping her hands behind her back.

Harry browsed the shelves, pulling out various records to look at the songs, only to put them back where he found them. Eventually he pulled out a mainly blue album, and Lavinia couldn't help the shit-eating grin that covered her face. His gaze was placed on her, brows furrowed. "Elvis is the guy who died of a heart attack, yeah?"

"That's correct." Lavinia nodded, taking the album when he held it out towards her. "Blue Hawaii is one of my favourites."

"I've never listened to him before. Dudley came home with an Elvis record once and Uncle Vernon lost it. Kept going on about how he died of a drug overdose and that listening to his music would send his precious Duddykins to hell." Harry rolled his eyes, following Lavinia into the living room where the record player sat.

"Duddykins is going to hell anyways, so what's it matter?" Lavinia snorted, setting the record on the table and placing the stylus in the first groove. "I reckon we are too though, so shall we?"

"Night and you, and blue Hawaii.
The night is heavenly, and you are heavenly to me."

Lavinia grabbed both of Harry's hands, soaking in the frigid feeling that had become like second nature — her own personal solace in her eyes; everything about Harry seemed to scream safe, from his gentle touch to his kindhearted persona, she knew she was eternally blessed; he was divinely charming, and she was unable to get enough of his existence.