**as a note for some reason cellphones became a thing so to make my brain happy i pretend it's through a magically run circuit and you can only call people who you share on both sides as a contact. sort of like advanced version of the mirrors.

He almost apologizes and calls it off at the last second. Farkle’s eyeing the last text sent to Riley for the millionth time as he approaches the Sinclair manor. He knows it’s bothering her even when she doesn’t tell him. He couldn’t claim to know her better than anyone else if he wasn’t aware of that much. But as much as stopping an turning back to tell her to be honest vibrates through him, so does the fact of thei promise. And if she wasn’t going to be honest then he’d… Do what she said.

Even if it killed him a little inside knowing she was hurting.

Huffing out a breath, he scrubbed at his eye as he approached the door. Then gave a cursory glance down at his clothing. Not for his own benefit, but in spite of it all Farkle did come from a rich, pureblood family. Even if his parents never cared who his riends were there were other family members and families as a whole. There was a reason when Elle mentioned the Minkus’ being approved of that he knew exactly why she chose him over anyone else. Out of all of their connected friends, aside from Riley, he probably was the only one that fit elitist pureblood criteria.

And he’d been to enough fancy danners to not wish that upon anyone.

Still, he had to doublecheck that his attire wasn’t too likely to be frowned upon. He thanked whatever gos might actually exist for making it a social norm that teenagers tended to wear muggle fashion because the jeans and jacket he wore were comfortable and appropriate enough. Finally slipping his phone back in his pocket he made the treacherous knock on the Sinclair manor door and waited.
Elle sets down her phone as she waits at her vanity, looking doubtfully at her last text. She knows she has Riley’s blessing, but she still can’t help but feel slightly guilty at forcing her friend’s boyfriend to go on a date with her. Farkle certainly wasn’t her first choice. They might have found a mutual respect over each other’s ambitions that allowed a strange kind of friendship, but if she was to spend her afternoon with anyone it would be Max or Rory. But Farkle was the only one who fit, and escaping this Witches’ Luncheon was about much more than wearing plaid.

The Sinclair family was a proud family. They were proud of many things. They were proud of their great, great, great grand-father who helped invent the first Veritaserum potion. They were proud of their naturally fair complexions and overall natural beauty (there was one case with the late William Sinclair who had a larger than normal nose, but the family didn’t like to mention that particular faux pas). But what they were most proud of, something few knew but many suspected was their blood. Purebloods. All of them. Those who were men carried on the Sinclair name by finding the perfectly pampered and ready to please Pureblood wife. The girls, were married off to become the Pureblood wives and no one was more passionate about that than her Aunt Ursula.

She would take her niece to the parties and luncheons. She would teach her how to bat her lashes and keep her mouth shut at the dinner table, to walk into empty rooms to let the men speak about politics while the women gossiped about each other. When Elle was little she could hide in her room, but now that she was older it was harder to avoid the world her Aunt had decorated for her.

And all she wanted was to avoid that world.

Farkle had been the answer. How does one get out of a Sinclair approved function? They put themselves in another Sinclair approved function. With his pureblood and his family name, Farkle Minkus was the perfect fake date to win her Aunt’s approval. She just hoped it wasn’t too selfish. Because she already knows she’s a coward.

Elle puts down the lipstick she had been applying as a pop tells her Bernie has entered her room.

“Mrs. Sinclair would like me to tell you there is a boy waiting outside for Miss Sinclair,” croaks the old house elf looking at Elle with kind eyes. The elf knows her well for she continues, “Mrs. Sinclair seems pleased. She’s watching him from the window.”

“Excellent,” Elle whispers more to herself than the elf. She crouches down to pat the elve’s wrinkled skin affectionately. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Elle hurries down the staircase, making sure she is light on her feet so her Aunt doesn’t hear the rapid clicking of her heels. She would get scolded if Ursula discovered her niece had hurried instead of gracefully descending the stairs incase Farkle suddenly develops X-Ray vision. She takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment, before painting on a carefree smile and opening the door.

“Farkle,” she says, leaning in to give the boy a kiss on the cheek before he can protest. She’ll hex herself for Riley later. She grabs the boy genius’ hand and pulls him away from the front door, looking up to give her Aunt a wave. She can see Ursula’s smirk of approval from the window above, and she doesn’t know whether or not it relieves her or makes gut clench.

Farkle’s stomach is already doing somersaults and no in the pleasant way he found in spending time with Riley. For all those years he was considered to be a flirt he was never prepared for dates. Never. Even his recent date with Riley was filled with corny lines and hurried, random remarks. A good date talker he was not and in spite of suddenly being a boyfriend he hadn’t gotten any better. Even if he knew this wasn’t a date he can’t help the coiled feelings in his stomach because to the public eye it would be. He was officially the worst boyfriend ever.

Scratch that.

When Elle opens the door he tries to put on a sheepish smile. Not that difficult, all thing considered. He was sheepish arriving at Riley’s house on their first date and he’d been going there since he was six. The smile falters when she suddenly kisses him on the cheek and instead he kind of gapes helplessly when she begins to pull him away. No amount of rationalization can stop the incoherent noises from leaving his mouth as they walk away from the door. While he successfully doesn’t faint, he does trip over his on feet once or twice which forces him to hold her hand in turn to keep from falling.

Now he was the worst boyfriend over.

“O-okaaay,” he finally manages in his old squeaky tone. At least it was something coherent as he closes his eyes and tries to figure out how to smooth himself out He was bad with Riley, this was just awkward. The ring on his finger seems to burn as he tries to piece together what he as supposed to say “Please don’t do that again,” he manages meekly, “I might die next time.” Because certainly he’d move straight past fainting into heart attack territory

Elle masks the wave of sympathy she feels as she look over at Farkle. Kissing someone on the cheek was by no means a declaration of love, but it wasn’t exactly the most innocent action to a bystander. Elle knew this. That is why she did it. With her Aunt watching from above, she needed to at least look like she was trying to woo the Minkus boy to some degree. Sinclair’s played to win, and that included the hearts of rich purebloods.

She should have just put up with the luncheon. Then Farkle wouldn’t be looking at her as if he had just witnessed a horror film. Then Hogwarts wouldn’t hate her for “getting in between” the world’s most perfect couple.

If only she could talk to Max.

But Max had his own life and his own problems to deal with, and it wasn’t his responsibility to sweep in and save her when she made a mistake. Elle would go through with her plan, and she would do so painlessly for all parties involved.

“Sorry,” Elle says her voice neutral despite the sincerity of the word. She looks over her shoulder as Sinclair manor fades from their view and lets go of Farkle’s hand as if it was a boiling cauldron.

“No deaths allowed,” Elle commands waving a finger in front of the raven claw before adjusting the hem of her dress. She brushes a stray curl away from her face and exhales a puff of warm breath into the chilly air.

It was all her fault. It was always her fault. She had been stupid to think this was a good idea. She was selfish. She was a coward…

“Thanks,” Elle finally breaths after a pause. The word is still tight in her mouth, not used to being spoken out loud. She says it to Max all the time through her actions, but Farkle does not know her as well. Elle knows he actually needs to hear it, even if it means exposing just a bit of how uncomfortable she truly was with the whole endeavor.

Clearing her throat, Elle flips her hair over her shoulder and taps her foot impatiently. “So how exactly are we going to this gallery? Fake or not I expect this date to be acceptable.”

This is the day of guilt. It’s really not like it’s all that much–He knows they have to play the part in some small fraction, but he didn’t think about what all it might entail. He wanted to help because he knew all too well the feelings and even Riley too, in her own way, which is why he knew a part of her didn’t mind the helping a friend thing. It was just what the rest of it entailed. He was already planning his thousand and one apologies.

He can’t help the small sigh of relief that escapes his lips when he’s allowed to reclaim his hand. The ring on it seems to burn less now that it swayed uselessly by his side At least he could say there was no tingly sensation when Elle held it And for a moment he’s distracted by the thought that Rileys had fit perfectly in his hand– Quickly he shakes it off as the other girl waves a hand in his face.

“Noted. No dying,” he breathes out, the squeak still etched in his tone, and I’m the one who should be sorry. I should have been more composed.” But composed and Farkle Minkus weren’t necessarily used in the same sentence anyway. So hopefully her aunt knew that. Or at least could go with flustered boy and pretty girl scenario. Elle was very pretty and he knew that, but he just couldn’t look past his sun.

He tries for a weak, hopeful smile knowing he’s not the only one awkward about the whole thing. He knew he was hardly Ele’s idea of choice company an that wasn’t likely to change. They may have ran in the same friend circle at points, but he wasn’t usually anyone’s first pick to hang out with unless you were Smackle, Lucas, Riley, and Maya. And he wasn’t so sure on the Lucas part of that equation right now.

“I’m not the one you should be thanking right now. I know how it is,” he says with a nod back to the manor, “…but I already plan to properly apologize to her later. She’s probably of sending carrots to their graves.” The ‘she’ in the equation doesn’t need to be mentioned. He may understand and Riley may in her own way, but he wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking she was okay with it when she admitted to being jealous over a book.

Taken aback a moment, Farkle shakes his head. “I usually take the subway, but I already figured that would be a bad idea,” he says quietly, “so one of the cars are just up the road. That work?”

Elle purses her lips at the mention of Riley Matthews, even though Farkle doesn’t even actually have to say her name out loud. It doesn’t take a genius to notice the way his ring finger fidgets uncomfortably by his side, nor does the still lovesick look that comes across the boy’s face leave any room in the conversation for anyone but his Sunshine. Seriously? Who moons over a girl’s ability to murder vegetables?

She tells herself she will make it up for Riley later. She will. She has to. Not to many people gave Riley much credit, but Elle knew she was one of the strongest people at Hogwarts. She fought with kindness, even against her own demos, and held nothing but Elle’s respect. Elle didn’t want to hurt her, even if she suspected she already had.

But there was nothing either of them could do to help that now, so Elle just nod in agreement to Farkle’s words as she tries to get her mind to stop pondering over ways to send Riley and Farkle on a romantic night and focus on her own date with the Minkus boy.

Elle bites the corner of her lip at Farkle’s chosen transportation. “Not really,” she deadpans honestly, but gives a shrug that shows she isn’t bothered by the fact. “I’ll just tell my Aunt it’s a new wizard trend. She still won’t like it, but she won’t question it.”

At least he realize he’s being a bad date and stuffs his hands into his pockets. It’s impossible to not think about Riley but he can at least concentrate on conversation. This doesn’t really feel like a date right now at all anyway. “It can’t be helped,” he mentions with a shrug, “I’m still not seventeen, so no apparating. They’re renting a building out right in the muggle side of town. So portkeys can’t be used and it’s only a two week long exhibition so that’s too much paperwork to put it in the Floo Network for such a short time. No fireplaces anyway. Of course that means broomsticks are out, too, never mind I’m terrible at flying.”

That was the longest explanation ever. “Sorry,” he said quickly, darting his eyes away knowing few people rarely enjoyed it, “I just mean to say that wizarding methods aren’t really open to us in this situation anyway I think everyone knows dad owns a helicopter anyway since he usually talks about it” Not to mention most teenagers seemed to own cellphones, so that doesn’t really help.

“Sorry,” he winces at that, “again.” He doesn’t really give an explanation at that at first and realizes it probably needs one. “I know I’m not someone you’d want to go out with and I’ve only been one date before now. Just a few days ago at that,” he considers, “but I can at least try to make the exhibit entertaining.”

Elle relaxes a bit at Farkle’s lengthy explanation. To his credit, Farkle seemed to really be trying to help her. Elle isn’t quite sure why. She isn’t Maya, Lucas, or Riley. She’s just some scary 5th year who happens to have a mutual interest in politics. She should at least try and make this an interesting experience, even if it meant showcasing a crack in her heavily polished armor.

“I know,” Elle says shrugging her shoulders as they walk towards the car. “Believe me. My Aunt is just stubborn, but really it doesn’t matter. And the clarify,” Elle pauses to give Farkle a slightly mischievous look very different than her usually haughty demeanor. “I adore the subway.”

The smile that had appeared on her face vanishes at Farkle’s second apology, and she lets out a sigh in reply. “Farkle,” she says with a long drawl that hints at disapproval. “I’m not exactly your first choice to spend the afternoon with. I know that, which is why I am just grateful you are here. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.” Her voice grows quieter at this last part, and she isn’t sure she wants to continue. She suspects Farkle already understands many of the true reasons for her desperation to escape the luncheon.

Giving a shake of her head, Elle’s confidence returns as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Anyways. Where is this exhibit again? We’ll also need to stop by the gift shop when we are there to get something for Riley.”