Sins of the Father | Sebastian x OFC (Caroline Rookwood) | Ominis x Garreth

Chapter 6: Gramophones

Caroline

**

Her eyes darted along the corridor, not at all wanting to encounter the couple as their voices neared the statue of the sleeping, before it settled on a lonely door to her right. She was having such a lovely weekend so far—courtesy of Ominis brokering an agreement with the transfer to stay in the boys' dormitory. She owed him for the slight reprieve.

The pad of her feet carried her across a short drawbridge, through a door and shutting the it as quietly as possible, placing an ear to gauge the footsteps as they passed. Bloody hell, they were arguing in the damn hallway.

"Ahem."

Caroline jumped back, startled, looking around the classroom before it settled on a young man with swept back, black hair and grey eyes, in the middle of the room, examining the contents of a table.

"Apologies," Caroline curtsied, "I—was looking for..." she trailed off, not knowing how to explain the propriety of hiding from someone.

"I assume you're wanting to get away from the storm that's known as Sallow and that girl of his?"

The young man smirked at her, before tapping the glass on the table at hand before she nodded sheepishly.

"What are you doing?" she asked, as he picked up the light bulb and turned it slowly in his hands.

"Examining these things— fascinating, really, those ideas of Muggles."

"Have you not seen one before? I thought all students were required to take at least one term of Muggle Studies." That much was certain considering the number of Muggles outnumbered their kind. And though Caroline's family was pure blooded through various lines across Europe, her father saw the potential in the opportunities Muggle innovation possessed.

"Never pass a chance at opportunity," was one of his mottos. Caroline internally grimaced, wondering exactly what those opportunities were if Sebastian's accusations were correct as she was brought back to the present by the rather silly smile on the young lad's face before her.

"Almost all students," he smiled sadly at her as he fiddled with the knobs of the gramophone, "But you see, my father bypassed all that. Thought it unseemly and foolish."

"Really? Your father has the power to override the curriculum? That must be nice—didn't realize that was possible," she scoffed— the nerve of some families.

"Indeed!" He chuckled stepping around the desk and presenting her with a bow, "I'm Phineas. Phineas Black— son of Ursula Black and Phineas Nigellus Black."

Oh...

Caroline's eyes went wide, before slipping into a low curtsy and keeping her gaze on the floor.

"Oh! Please don't—" the pad of the young Black's quickened footsteps stopped before her, the shine of his shoes gleaming against the rough stone floor as he crouched down to stare up at her with a hopeful pout on his face, "I do so hate all these formalities."

"Yes, but—" Bloody hell, this was the Headmaster's son! So much for keeping a low profile.

"But nothing! I'm not technically supposed to be here, so de facto no formalities exist!" He placed a finger to his lips.

Caroline sighed, giggling as she stood to steady herself, "Very well, if you insist. I'm Caroline—Caroline Rookwood."

Phineas jumped, righting himself with a smile, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Caroline."

She laughed at his exuberance, pointing to the several items on the table, "Now—what were you doing with that light bulb?"

Caroline bit her cheek, stifling a laugh as Phineas' face beamed, showing her the collection of items along the table he gathered around the room.

"So, Muggles don't need fire or magic to light their homes at night? Fascinating," his eyes were wide as he spun the lamp encasing the bulb.

She had transfigured some thread from the quills lying about as she showed him the sewing machine—a little machine she often found the servant's quarters when she was home.

"Now why would Muggles need such a thing?"

"And this little contraption?" Phineas asked, poking at the gramophone excitedly.

"Ah—well it plays music," she explained as his eyes lit up, "Unfortunately, this doesn't have a record."

Merlin, he looked like an abandoned puppy at that, "I... may have a record in my trunk somewhere if you'd like to borrow it for next time." She laughed hard at the smile he gave, imagining a little tail wagging behind him.

"I shall hold you to that promise then, Caroline."

**

"Well then— I suppose I'll be seeing you around," he bowed, eyes twinkling, "Though I suppose next time will be more formal, Ms. Rookwood."

"Yes, it likely will," Caroline sighed sadly.

"Until you find yourself across the little drawbridge again," he winked before giving her a little wave as he left her to stand at the statue of the sleeping dragon.

Caroline smile, she couldn't remember the last time she had so much fun.

**

She was sitting at dinner the following night celebrating Ominis' return from the Gaunt household and Imelda regaling them with plans for the Quidditch team. Though Ominis was normally not a fan of Quidditch, it appeared he welcomed the change in conversation. He had come back, sullen and agitated—giving her a much longer hug than he normally would and delving straight into her 'welcome back' present of chocolate frogs. If there was one thing Ominis Gaunt did, it was not getting into a habit of indulging himself.

She would have to ask him just exactly how terrible his visit went.

"Ahem."

Caroline paused her work on the salmon on her plate, peering up at the face of Phineas Black as he sat himself comfortably across the table. What in Merlin's name was he doing?

"Hello, Captain," he cast a smile at their group, lingering on Caroline's face as he turned to address Imelda, "I was hoping you could remind me the time for practice tomorrow?"

"Really, Black?" Imelda rolled her eyes, frowning as she whispered sternly, "It's the same time as always—half past five. Honestly... if you weren't such a good Quidditch player..."

"My apologies, Captain—I'll make up my absent mind with a few extra laps on the pitch tomorrow," he smiled at Imelda's reluctant grunt of approval, clearing his throat, "And—might I ask about your companions you're dining with?"

Caroline bit back a laugh—when he said 'next time' she wasn't intending for it to be so soon.

"You should obviously know Gaunt—his family practically founded the school," Imelda scoffed, "But this is Caroline. Caroline Rookwood—best friend extraordinaire."

"Extraordinaire?" His brows quirked at her, her face heating as he studied her, "That's high praise, Ms. Rookwood."

She refrained from visibly pouting, resolving to throw him an annoyed smile—whatever happened to disliking formalities? "Please, it's just Caroline."

His grey eyes twinkled, an unreadable smile etched on his face, sending a flurry of butterflies to crop in her stomach, "It's my pleasure then, just Caroline."