charity burbage MIGHT be looking up again. (mugglemethis) wrote in find_horcruxes, @ 2009-08-23 04:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | charity burbage, sarah cornfoot |
RP Log: Charity Burbage, Sarah Cornfoot
Who: Charity Burbage, Sarah Cornfoot
When: Saturday
Where: Cornfoot household
What: Charity comes to bother Sarah, at her request, and the two girls talk about life, death, babies, and Doc.
Rating: PG
As always, Sarah had a pot of tea ready when Charity arrived. There was a plate of biscuits, too, because the Cornfoot house perpetually had a plate of biscuits of some stripe or another available. They were chocolate this time, with white chocolate chips in them, and between the three denizens of the house they were already reduced significantly from their original number, but there were still plenty of them to last out the next day or two. Sarah Cornfoot was just the kind of woman who constantly had tea and biscuits ready in case of emergencies that required them. While she usually couldn't solve any problems but Lizzie's with them, they at least mitigated the sting in some things. Sarah knew she couldn't do anything to fix Charity's situation. She'd lost her mother, violently, and there was nothing that could be done about that. Sarah didn't feel compelled to fix other people's problems, though; she just wanted to help with them as she could with whatever small things she could do. So she did things like this: she invited Charity in and sent Lizzie out in the back garden with Douglas and sat Charity down with tea and biscuits to talk or not talk as she saw fit. She couldn't shake her own memories of cleaning up in that house, though, and that was what prompted her question after they had made idle chitchat for a few minutes. "Are you sure staying in that house is the best thing for you, Charity?" Sarah asked gently. "I worry about you there." "There's really nowhere else for me to go, Sarah," Charity told her friend kindly. She knew that she wasn't asking her out of spite or meanness, but out of concern, and so she said it as gently as she could. "It's my home. Has been since I was born, and if it the Nazis couldn't drive my mother out, I'm certainly not going to let the Death Eaters take it from me. Mum would have my head on a spike if I did. It was pretty much the only thing we had growing up, and it would just feel... wrong giving it up." Charity reached across the table and squeezed Sarah's hand softly. "I know that you worry, and it's so sweet of you, too, but Doc's getting an Auror friend to re-enforce the wards everyone put up right after it happened. I'll be fine. I promise. I don't want you to worry about it anymore; you're worrying for two as it is. You don't need to worry for three." "Oh, please," Sarah scoffed lightly, waving her hand in an almost playfully dismissive gesture. "Worrying for three is my absolute bottom level of worry at any given time - four now, really. And then I've got you, and Doc and Benjy - because regardless of what any of you tell me, Douglas included, I still worry. The ancients had Warrior Queens...I'm a Worrier Queen." She squeezed Charity's hand in return, though, before letting it go. "I know you're brave and you're tough and you'll make it through anything," she said, her voice a little quieter. "And if staying there and not giving up your home is the best thing for you, I can understand that. I just wanted to make sure you weren't staying there just to...I don't know," Sarah sighed, trying to figure out exactly how to say what she meant to say. It was so easy to go wrong in these sorts of situations, and sometimes even what would be right for one person was terribly wrong for another. "You should do whatever works for you," she finally concluded. "And come over here absolutely any time you like. Or leave me a note on the journals and we'll come over and spend time with you there - any time." "Where else would I stay, though?" Charity certainly had no idea how she'd gotten so lucky to count Sarah as a friend. She really was one of the sweetest people she'd ever known. A good deal of the reason that Charity was staying at her family home was because she couldn't bear to impose on anyone. She had her habits, her ticks, just like anyone else, and it would be unfair to ask anyone else to put up with those. "I think this is the best thing for me. The longer I stayed away, the more I kept trying to stall going back. Have to face your fears, and all that." Besides, she couldn't keep turning to Doc whenever things fell apart. It wasn't fair to ask so much of him after the way she'd treated him those years ago. They'd only really begun their friendship again, and there was a wall that she should never allowed herself to cross a few weeks ago. Charity's expression darkened a little at that thought, but she didn't say anything about that. "Everything is doing well here? How's Douglas's work? And Lizzie? Is she ready to have a brother?" Sarah wasn't so sure that this was a fear that really needed facing. She'd often felt that "facing your fears" was a rather overrated concept anyway. Some fears were perfectly reasonable to have. Charity was changing the subject, though, so Sarah let it go. She could mention later that she and Douglas would be glad to let Charity stay with them while she sold the old house if she wanted. The point here was to help Charity feel better, not drag her through a lot of painful things if she didn't want to. "Douglas stays busy - everyone in the legal department is right now, just as much as in MLE," Sarah said. "He's doing well, though. And he's going to try to make a little more family time; we're shooting for Friday nights to be for us and Lizzie, as much as we can. And Lizzie's thrilled about Stephen, though I think she's going to be disappointed when she finds out that her plan of teaching him to dance is going to have to wait a bit." "I imagine they are staying busy. Probably busier than they'd like, I imagine." Charity frowned a little when she thought about the reason he was staying so busy. She didn't like adding to his work, but she hadn't exactly asked for the Death Eaters to come knocking on her mother's door. "Oh yes, I imagine she'll find him dreadfully boring for a little while after the novelty of new baby wears off. I can just hear her now," Charity said, trying out a laugh. It felt a little stuck in her throat, but she didn't want to wallow in her mother's death forever. Especially since Sarah had been so kind to extend her an invitation. "'Mummy, he won't drink his tea at the tea party! Make him drink his tea like Mr Rabbit does!'" Sarah laughed, a little more easily than Charity did but not quite so loudly as she might usually. She couldn't help but be a bit subdued, given the previous conversation. "Sounds like our Lizzie," Sarah admitted with a smile. "It amazes me how fast she's growing up, though. She's reading all on her own now - taking after Douglas, I think, being so clever." "Don't you dare sell yourself short, Sarah Cornfoot," Charity scolded, though it was without any sort of malice. Giving a little smirk, she continued, "But they really do grow up fast. I remember when she was just a tiny little thing, and you didn't get any sleep." It was funny how much Charity remember from that time, considering she'd only just found out she wouldn't be able to have any children of her own. She'd never once thought anything malicious toward her friend -- or any other woman who could have children for that matter. A little envious, perhaps, but never spiteful. "Have you set up the baby's room yet? I'd love to help if you need any. I'm good with a paint brush!" "Oh, you should not have said that," Sarah replied, giving her a little grin. "You're going to find yourself put to work - and we haven't really gotten any further than getting all the random junk out of the room and up to the attic." Really, getting a room painted and furniture arranged and pictures hung and that sort of thing was stuff that she could handle well enough, especially with Douglas's help. A little more help wouldn't go amiss, though, and Sarah couldn't help but think it might do Charity some good as well. When dealing with the end of a life, preparing for the beginning of one could help. The chance to do something creative and productive might have a positive effect on her state of mind, too. "I really don't mind at all. It's... well, it's lonely in the house, as I'm sure you --" Charity didn't want to keep going back to the topic of her mother's death. It was depressing, and there was nothing she could do about it now. She could grieve in private and put on a happy face for her friends. They were all so worried about her, and she couldn't stand to upset them. "It'll be good to have something to keep me occupied. Something that doesn't involve bothering Doc all the time, I mean." Charity's stomach was in knots. She hadn't intended to tell to Sarah any of the goings-ons that had occurred the week of her mother's death, but she knew she couldn't keep it buried inside of her for long. Especially not when she couldn't really stop thinking about Doc. "You know he doesn't mind," Sarah chided gently. She didn't know about any of the aforementioned goings-on, but she was certain that Doc loved Charity and would be glad to do whatever he could for her in a time like this, just as all of them were. More than the rest of them, she privately considered. While she tried not to pry too much into the affairs of others, Sarah had always felt that their divorce had been a mistake. "But it would be a huge help to me to have someone else on the decorating and furniture shoving and all that. I haven't even gotten as far as thinking up a theme or anything." "No theme, even? That's an easy enough one. Quidditch. Douglas'll love it, too." Charity used to love coming up with themes for baby rooms. There were so many. Quidditch, fairy tales, football, ballerinas, fairies, centaurs... The list could go on and on. Charity was not as forgiving about her past behaviour, and had she to do it all over again, she was quite certain that she would not have slipped a set of divorce papers to Doc Dearborn four years ago. "Maybe he doesn't mind, but he should after the way I treated him, Sarah. Sometimes I can't even believe that was me." Sarah couldn't help but feel unbearably sad at that remark. It was one thing for her to think that the divorce had been an awful mistake. Looking at Charity now, it seemed that she thought something of the same, and Sarah couldn't imagine living with that kind of heartbreak and guilt for four years. The surprise was there, because while Sarah might have occasionally suspected Charity might feel that way the other woman had never said so out loud. More than that, though, Sarah just felt terrible for her. "Oh, Charity..." she murmured, and she pulled her chair around closer to her friend's. "You got devastating news and it hurt you terribly. Reacting to that doesn't make you a bad person, and it doesn't mean you're not deserving of being cared for." In this case, Charity thought that Sarah was so wrong. She couldn't be more wrong, but that wasn't something she'd ever say to anyone. She'd keep those thoughts quietly to herself. "I did a bad thing, Sarah... The night of my mum's funeral... I was staying with Benjy and Doc... and... one thing led to another..." Thank Merlin Charity wasn't looking at her, because Sarah's eyes went wide as saucers. Her jaw even dropped a little, because she knew exactly what "one thing led to another" meant. And if it was a really bad thing that she did... "...you slept with Benjy?" Charity sputtered, did a double-take, and sputtered some more. "What?? NO! Oh myGod, Sarah, no! Benjy Fenwick is... he's like a little brother at best. I slept with Doc! Doc! Not Benjy!" "Well, you said it was a bad thing!" Sarah protested, despite being deeply and profoundly relieved that Charity had not in fact slept with Benjy. There was probably something in the world that could be more socially destructive and horrifying, but Sarah was hard-pressed to come up with anything at the moment. But that hadn't happened, so she didn't have to worry about that. What she had instead was an entirely different state of affairs: Charity had sex with her ex-husband on the night of her mother's funeral. Time to regroup and deal with that. "Nevermind that," Sarah said firmly. "All right. So...you slept with Doc. Because...you were grieving and lonely? Or something else?" Charity didn't really know how to answer that question, not without rambling endlessly and thinking it through out loud. Very carefully, she said, "Well, I thought it was one of those, funeral life affirming things, but I'm not so certain any more..." Charity's gaze flicked up to Sarah's face, though she cringed. Why oh why had she decided that being friends with Doc was going to go smoothly? That they could erase the hurt and the bad times and pretend they never happened? "I told you I was awful, Sarah! This is why I just can't impose on him any more. I can't just keep running to him when everything falls apart and do this to him. He doesn't deserve that!" "You are not awful." That was important to establish right up front, because regardless of what Charity might be thinking, as far as Sarah was concerned she did not have any awful people for friends. She took Charity's hand in hers and looked her right in the eyes as she repeated it. "You're not, Charity. You're a good person, and not a bit of this means you're not." However, the issue itself did need to be addressed as well. Sarah just needed Charity to calm down a little before she attempted it. Now that she had her listening, Sarah quieted a little bit in her next question. "Now...have you considered the fact that maybe the reason you keep running to him is that you ought to be with him?" she asked. "And that maybe the reason he lets you is because he wants you there?" Charity sat there speechless for a good long while, unable to think of anything suitable to respond with. How funny, she was shaking a little, and her hands were freezing. "Sarah, I'm not really one-hundred percent sure how to answer that. Even if he did... still want me there... I couldn't... I couldn't just worm my way back into his life like that. Not after... I just pushed so hard. I did everything I could to push him away, and I think I did it. I think I succeeded the day I handed him the papers." "It's just..." Sarah sighed, grimacing a little as she went looking once more for the right thing to say. It could be so difficult sometimes, and Merlin knew this one was complicated. She had to try, though. "I've heard you talk about the divorce a few times," she went on carefully. "Not much, but some. And in all that time, I've never once heard you say that any of it had to do with not loving him. You practically divorced him because you loved him, in some kind of attempt to save him or something. And...well, I've never known Doc to take things like this lightly, and it seems to me that if he didn't still have real feelings for you, he wouldn't have had sex with you - he would've poured you a cup of tea and told you that you needed some sleep or something like that." Cringing once more, Charity placed the pads of her fingers against one of her eyelids as if fighting off a headache. Maybe if headaches came in the form of embarrassment and humiliation. Maybe telling someone about sleeping with Doc had been a bad idea. No, Charity took that back: sleeping with Doc had been the bad idea. The Worst Idea in the history of bad ideas. "Maybe, but... he shouldn't still have feelings for me. I know I sound like a broken record, but the whole reason I did it was so he could --" So he could what? Have children with someone else? "So he wouldn't regret sticking with a defective woman just because he's so loyal." "Charity..." Sarah took a deep breath, because she knew what she was about to say could very well be crossing some serious lines. She had thought it four years ago, but she kept her opinions to herself because she'd felt the important thing was to be supportive of two friends who were going through a very hard time. It seemed so very obvious that the decisions they'd made then hadn't made either one of them happy, though, that something had to be said. "If you think he'd see you as defective because you can't have children, you're completely mad," Sarah began calmly. "And I think that somewhere deep down inside you know the problem isn't that he would think you're defective - it's that you were thinking it, and you were having such a terrible time living with yourself. And if he regrets anything, I imagine it's probably that he couldn't convince you that he loved you for yourself and not for hypothetical future children. Love is not about what people should or shouldn't feel, Charity," she concluded at last. "It just is." Sarah had given this some thought, Charity realised, because she had hit the nail right on the head. At least her portion of it. The conversation, however, was exhausting her when she was already exhausted to begin with. There was nothing quite like lying in bed, straining to hear every single little sound that might be out of the ordinary to see if the Death Eaters had come back to finish the job they started, until she was so exhausted she literally could not keep her eyes open any longer. Charity suddenly wanted to go home, but the house was no longer home to her. They'd taken it from her, and the only time she'd felt comfortable or safe was when she'd been staying at Benjy and Doc's, and that had nothing to do with the place and everything to do with one particular person. "I know that you're right -- at least when it comes to my reasoning. I know it deep down, like you said. It's just hard to even think I could go back." Admitting you made a mistake was a terrible weight that was hard to push off your chest. Begging for a second chance was completely out of the question. "You're right that it was all me, though. He said it was all right, but... I wasn't." It was a sad, sad state of affairs. Sarah had always thought so, but she'd never felt it so much as she did now. When she squeezed Charity's hand, it was nearly as much to make herself feel better as to offer any comfort to Charity. That didn't quite do it, though, so she scooted over in her chair to turn and hug her friend for just a few seconds before she pulled back to look at her. "I'll just say one last thing," Sarah said softly, "and I want you to listen, and then I promise I'll let it drop and we'll eat some biscuits and talk about Quidditch-themed baby rooms. But Charity, I just want you to think about that maybe...maybe Doc's a little more forgiving than you might think, and that maybe you deserve forgiveness more than you might think, too. And that maybe when you really love someone, it's worth the pain of trying to work through all the hurt you felt or caused. Just...just think about that. Just a little." Just sitting there thinking that maybe she deserved forgiveness made her stomach churn as if she was sitting across from Doc, admitting all of this. It was true, what Sarah said about Doc: he was more forgiving than she thought; he surprised her all of the time. But he could also hold a grudge when he felt it was warranted, and this time, she felt in the pit of her stomach, was one of those unforgivable things. "I'll think about it a little -- or knowing me, I'll obsessively think about it --" And do nothing, she thought to herself. "I promise that I will, Sarah. You have my word." If nothing else, Charity Burbage's word was good. |