Who: Estella Derrick and Caden Flint
What: Ugh, tabloids.
Where: Her dance studio
When: July 29, 1978



"Kristin, that's really good, right---go show Brittany, yes, yes---"

"Julie, stop talking, come on now. You too, Leigh, you can talk after---Mallory. Mallory. Mal--, right, I love your leotard, it's gorgeous, now get in line."

"Merry and Ally! Just! Ooh, okay. Fine, break's over, the lot of you! Go to the bar and into first through fifth position----Emma, you're behind Amanda, you know that--"

Estella shook her head, but couldn't stop the smile growing on her face as her twelve-year-olds found their places along the bar. Her studio was the only place she could...what, she could behave like she had a year ago? Ha, she supposed that's the way she could look at it. The moment she stepped through the front doors she had a smile on her face, which was strange. She had terrible hours because two of their instructors had gone on maternity leave, it was terribly exhausting and she looked like a right mess with no makeup on and her hair thrown up into a pitiful ponytail half the time, but she loved it, and if she could, she'd spend all day on the dance floor.

After about forty more minutes of warm ups and simply working on their routine, Estella pulled out her wand and opened up a closet. Out floated about a dozen leotards and costumes, making the girls shriek and rush forward.

"Look for your size, and go to the dressing room," Estella called over their high pitched squeaks, standing behind the crowd and stretching.

Shit.

Shitshitshitshitshit. This couldn't be happening.

He had just gotten the letter from the woman he had written to about the picture of him and Estella. It read as follows:

Dear Mr.Flint,

I am so sorry to inform you that despite my efforts in keeping the inappropriately timed photos of you and Miss Derrick have been sold. I am not aware of who it was that purchased the photo's, being that the buyer remained anonymous. I am almost certain it was a member of the press, so you should expect to be seeing something written rather soon.

I am so, so sorry for this. I did do all that I could.

-Regina Frescon

The letter was resting on the table in front of him. The same table, that they had both leaned on to sign that fucking letter. Did he seriously think it would work? Maybe he did, at the time. Maybe he had just a little bit of hope that this would stay off the streets. That he wouldn’t have another reason to try and avoid people. But, no. FUCK. Who the hell got their hands on those photos?! His hand rose up to rub his forehead, trying to compose himself. Marcus was crying upstairs, and Jolene had watched him too many times lately. He seemed to be just handing him over to her whenever he didn’t want to deal with him.

Sometimes he hated having a conscience. Rising to his feet, he picked up his son, and pushed back his hair, taking him downstairs to get him his sippy cup of juice. Sighing as he saw the small boy calm down, he lifted him further up. “Your Dad is about to be in a whole lot of trouble, kid…” His son blinked at him curiously, using his hand to tug on Caden’s t-shirt. He heard the tapping coming from the window, putting Marcus down in the chair to retrieve the letter. As soon as he got the letter, he was determined to find out where Estella Derrick was. She had a right to know.

Reading the words that were scribbled on the paper, he nodded to himself before he went to pick up Marcus, grabbing his sunglasses from the draw. He placed them on top of his head, so that the kid wouldn’t grab at them, and held him close as he apparated to outside the dance studio. He didn’t have time to get there any other way. He walked in, spoke to the receptionist, and asked her to watch Marcus…she seemed to agree without hesitation. Walking into the room where Estella was supposed to be, he stood in the doorway and watched the girls gather sparkly costumes, before he caught sight of the tallest of the bunch. Estella. She seemed distracted, stretching in front of a large mirror that even he was visible in, all the way in the back. He swallowed before he cleared his throat, loud enough for her to hear, but not loud enough to startle her.

Her hands were still wrapped around her left ankle when her head twisted up to look in the mirror. At first she thought it was one of the girls' father's coming to pick them up early which was odd, seeing as they usually just called them through some paper airplanes and---oh, oh no. Estella stood up quickly and turned around even faster, arms crossing over her chest and. Oh, bloody---her hand went to her hair which had just halfway fallen out of the ponytail and---what was he doing here?

"Hi, hullo, hi---" Estella stuttered, cursing herself silently for not bringing her wrap to rehearsal today. Oh, damnit---she shouldn't be embarrassed because she was in a bloody dance studio and being dressed like this was expected, but it was---rare, very rare, that someone who wasn't an instructor or a dancer came up here and itwasjustdifferentbecauseaugh. "What are you--"

"CADEN FLINT!" three of the girls shrieked and Estella had to whip around and put her arms out to stop them from tackling Caden. "OHMYGOSH IS IT REALLY---"

"DRESSING ROOM, NOW!" Estella said in her very best 'do not mess with the instructor' voice and the girls stopped short, only letting out a few groans before the trudged to the dressing room. She watched the door for a few seconds longer than she should've before she turned back to Caden with a weak smile. "Sorry. Preteens. Erm. How are you?"

He felt horrible, just barging in on her like this, totally unexpected. He’d probably be just as stunned if she randomly just showed up to one of his Quidditch practices…not that she’d be able to get in really, because of security, and things like that, but that was beside the point. He had gotten nothing more than a ‘Hi’ out, even though it was barely audible over the growing whispers that were going on amongst the girls. Eventually though, a few of the girls decided that it wasn’t really worth trying to hide their excitement. He straightened up and stared at the floor as she hearded them from one room to another.

Great. She already seemed to have enough on her plate without the news he was going to have to tell her. Once her attention was back on him though, he lifted his gaze. “What? Oh…yeah, it’s…it’s fine, I’m used to it.” He said, a little uncomfortably. “I’m good. I’ve been better, but I’m good.” So, maybe he was lying. Maybe he wasn’t good. Maybe he was far from good, but saying ‘pissed off’ seemed inappropriate.

“I’m sorry I disturbed your class…I didn’t know you taught.” He gestured to the room.

"Oh, er," Estella looked around where he was gesturing as if she'd never seen the room before and then snapped out of the slight daze she'd put herself in with worry. Well. Not worry. Why was he here? Well, okay. There was reason to worry. He could be delivering bad news about the pictures, or...well. Something else. That she'd rather not think about, but it involved dinner and no babies. Oh, she was going to hell, but she couldn't help it. He was just so handsome and it helped pass the time thinking about---HELL, she was going to go to HELL! "Yes. This is my classroom. I guess. Not really, but. It's...yeah, I teach. Ballet."

Which was fucking obvious given the girls had tutus and ballet slippers on, but whatever, Estella, he probably already thought you were an idiot, so just keep the stupidly obvious comments to yourself, okay?

"You're not disturbing," she responded, just a wee bit late. "They're---they were supposed to be getting changed, anyway, recital in a few weeks and all..."

Would it be rude to ask him why he was here? Yes, of course it would be, but it wasn't as if he was a good enough friend to just drop by and---so. Bloody. Confusing. "What...brings you out here?"

He furrowed his brows slightly, noticing how nervous she seemed, and how delayed she was with most of her responses. Okay, this wasn't making things any easier. If she was this freaked out just because he was simply standing there, he couldn't imagine what she would be feeling once he told her there was going to be an article about them in the paper. Oh, that would go over just swell.

"Oh." He replied, not having much more to say about the dance recital. It really wasn't as though he had ever been to one, or knew how they worked, or anything.

And then, she asked the million dollar question. He froze in place for a second and stared down into her eyes, only to have to look away moments later. His hands were now fidgeting at his sides, one raising to scratch the side of his neck. "Er, it's...I just got a letter today." That wouldn't mean much to her at all. His hand dropped to his side and then, along with it's opposite, slipped into the pockets of his jeans. "It was about the pictures. Of, us." He was trying to keep his voice steady, but it was obvious he was struggling, with his mad and annoyed he was.

She was going to hate him. Forever. Never speak to him.

But, why did he care so much? Damn it all.

"Oh."

Estella bit the insides of her cheeks to try and stop herself from getting too worried. If it had been good news, he wouldn't have felt the need to tell her face to face, now would he? So it was definitely bad news; he was here, he didn't look like he was in a particularly good mood, and he was being short and to the point. Brilliant. Wonderful. Her mother-in-law would see and cause such a fucking fuss, wouldn't listen to a word she said, probably threaten to take Jacob away over it...woman already had, saying Estella wasn't mentally fit to take care of the child.

So what if it was partially true, it wasn't as if she was rocking back and forth in the corner of the room muttering incantations and setting her clothes aflame.

Wow, mind. Get back on track before you start to believe you're insane.

"Bad, huh?" she said, crossing her arms once again. She was over hiding and even stopped fiddling with her hair by pulling all of it from the band. Her life was basically over, haa...some tramp in the gossip rags, that's what she was going to be, bloody brilliant. "Is our affair hot and steamy, at least?"

She didn't know what she said it, but with the sharp words and the icy lining of her tone, Estella knew she wasn't going to cry about it anymore. At the moment, anyway.

"Yeah..."

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. This wasn't good for either of them. Maybe it would have been good for some attention seeking bimbo, but for her it would be torture. She had a family. There were skeletons in her closet that he was sure, if this story got bigger, would be exposed. And, he couldn't help but blame himself. Not that he had any control over it, but he was the one they were trying to get a picture of, and she just happened to be at the right place at the wrong time.

When she asked about their 'affair', he actually managed to smirk before it faded almost immediately. "I'm not sure. I'll be finding that when you do. I just-" it was then that he heard a crashing noise coming from the other room, along with an 'OH! NO! HEY, NO!' from the receptionist. "I'll be right back. I'm sorry, just...excuse me a moment."

With that, he headed out the door to fetch his son, who was now quite interested in the receptionists supplies. There was ink everywhere, and he was chewing on the end of one of her quills. Reaching over the desk, he picked him up effortlessly, noticing that his clothes were blotched with the black liquid he had spilt. Already in a bad mood, he muttered an apology, only to be hushed by the young redhead behind the desk. He was sure that if this was anyone else's kid, she would be a hell of a lot more upset, but since this was Caden Flint's son, it was quite alright to be covered in ink. "I'll clean this up-" but once again he was cut off with her insisting it was alright. Whatever. She could stay covered in the shit for all he cared.

Now, re-entering the room with an ink splattered son, he hoisted him up further in the one arm that was holding him. "I didn't have anyone else to watch him." He explained, as though he felt it was necessary.

"But, getting back to the pictures...I just thought I'd come and give you some sort of warning, so you had time to maybe clear things up with your family, or...whoever, before the article even comes out. I don't know how brutal it's going to be."

When Caden left for the disturbance (what could be causing such a ruckus), Estella rushed over to the door of the dressing room and flung it open. Toppling out immediately as if they were leaning all their weight against the door where her students, and they let out some shrieks and stared up at their instructor with the most innocent of gazes.

"Listen you lot," Estella said in hushed tones, looking over her shoulder to where Caden should be returning soon, "I don't want any of you spreading little stories, okay? You can say he was here, but---he's just a friend---from school, a friend from Hogwarts, okay? Do you got that?"

"Yes Mrs. Derrrrrriiiick," all the girls said in unison and they quickly scrambled to their feet and Estella rushed them back into the dressing room just in time for Caden to return with, ah, a very messy Marcus.

"Is that ink?" Of course it was ink; Estella could tell from across the dance floor that it was ink (Jacob had uncorked two bottles into her purse a few weeks back, she was still getting it all over her fingers), and instead of returning to Caden she crossed the room to grab her bag. She pulled out a package of special wipes she kept on her for all occasions (mostly including Jacob, but there were other times as well). They were soft and smelled nice, and could wipe away practically anything---and she meant anything. Estella came back over to the Flints and scrunched her nose at Marcus who had definitely outdone himself in the mess department.

"Here," she said, automatically wiping at Marcus' nose before she realized that Caden might not want someone touching his son. Estella flushed and handed him the package. "They're rather good."

He had expected her to say something more about the soon to be written article, so when she questioned about the ink, he didn't understand at first...that was, until he looked down at the mess he was holding. "Oh, yeah. He's covered in it." Only now did he bother to look at the spot on his own shirt, where Marcus was clinging to him. "And so am I, apparently..."

The boy let out a whine, his chubby cheeks expanding as he pouted, rubbing his hands on his dad to get the ink off of his palms. So, now he was a napkin. Just perfect.

When Estella reapproached them, he watched her curiously as she took out the wipes and started to clean a spot or two off of Marcus' face...and, it actually made the baby laugh. His father, who never saw him do much of that except for when he was around Jolene, looked at him as though he wasn't sure if he was supposed to make that noise or not. Taking the wipes with a thanks, he now tried to get some of it off of his cheeks and forehead, only to have Marcus to try and fight against him, trying to back away from the soapy fabric. "Do you want to get this off or not?" he asked his son with raised brows. He didn't expect the boy to answer, which was good because all he got was a scrunched up face and more tugging on his shirt. Oh, this was so fucking predictable. He groaned, frustrated, and eventually he gave up on trying, moving his hands away from his shirt because he was starting to annoy him. "Well, I'm sure they'd be fantastic, if I could actually get him to sit still long enough. Thanks anyway."

He handed her back the pack and came to accept that he was probably going to be covered in ink until they got back home.

Estella watched with some amusement as Marcus pulled away from the wipes, and kept her eyes on the boy as Caden handed them back. He didn't particularly look like Caden---well, the eyes, they eyes were definitely that of his father and...she...should probably not have been able to recognize that so quickly. Well. Caden was standing right there, so it was easy enough to compare the two even if she hadn't exactly been able to look Caden in the eye for the past few minutes.

"Such a nice shirt you've got ink on," Estella said to Marcus, who reached out and swatted her nose. She grinned and could see the black ink and didn't hesitate in taking his hand and wiping it off. Well, if she could get the boy to settle down, why shouldn't she? She was sure that Caden didn't need ink hand prints all of his house. Marcus actually obliged in her gently tugging of his hands and after a few minutes he was cleaned up (from what she could see, anyway). "See, all---ooh, you've got something--"

She'd been so stuck in the mothering and cleaning of Marcus that Estella didn't hesitate in reaching up and wiping some ink off of Caden's chin. She smiled and then blushed deeply as she realized what she'd done, and took half a step back. "Sorry. Instincts."

Well, at least she was getting some amusement out of his struggles. The kid just didn't like cooperating with him, even though it'd make things so much easier.

When the wipes were finally out of his hand, he thought she was just turn around and put them away. But, she didn't. It seemed that whatever he expected her to do, she did the complete opposite. He stood there, raising Marcus with his arm, watching the two of them interact. It was so strange, seeing someone take care of him, who wasn't Jolene. This woman wasn't even related to him, and Marcus couldn't possibly remember her, so why he was acting this way towards her, he didn't know. He was responsive. He wasn't crying. He wasn't flailing, or trying to squirm away from her, as he did with most. He just sat there, blinking at her as she cleaned him up, staring at his palms once they were washed, fascinated by them being their normal color. But that wasn't what Caden was fascinated with.

No, it was her smile that caught his attention. Something he had never seen her do, before today. Not that he had known her long enough to know it never happened, but...it was nice to see. The way her nose crinkled just a bit reminded him of Macke--

It wasn't until Estella wiped at his own face that he snapped back out of his daze. "No, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

They spent a few moments standing in silence, staring at each other, and it wasn't until he heard the girls trying to shush each other in the other room that he decided to look away from her, towards the dressing room. "You should probably get back to your class. They seem quite anxious to rehearse for the upcoming recital." He knew very well why they really wanted to get out of the room.

"Thank you, by the way, for...cleaning him." He furrowed his brows at how weird that statement was. "And I'm sorry again, for this whole mess of a situation I've gotten you into."