Meaghan will deflect until the end of time (mmmcc) wrote in neeps, @ 2017-11-11 20:53:00
Who: Meaghan McCormack, Catriona McCormack, Donaghan Tremlett What: Decisionmaking When: November 6, 1999 Where: McCormack family home, Meaghan's flat in Diagon Alley Warnings: Language is happening, sex has happened? IDK it's PG13ish
"Well, I knew the Willison girl was a fine acquisition for the team, but it's good to see she's a pleasant friendly sort too," Catriona said, watching her daughter as she put away the groceries. "And Florinda McGonagall has a good head on her shoulders. I think they'll do quite well living together."
"Huh."
"Really, I think either of them could get along with just about anyone, at least for a short period."
"Right."
She sighed. "Meaghan, you just put the milk in the cupboard." She was going to give the girl the benefit of the doubt and assume that hadn't been on purpose, though who could say for sure after seeing that flat of hers. "Are you still fretting over that cockroach of a reporter?"
By the way Meaghan stiffened she could tell it was true. "It's just an article, girl, there's worse things by far even if it is by Skeeter. She's no way to turn it 'round and make a medal a bad thing." Her daughter, with a medal -- and not for Quidditch, but for something real. She'd only known for a day but she wasn't sure she'd ever fully believe it.
There it was, that old scowl that popped up in teenage years and never quite went away. She always slapped it on when she didn't know how else to look. "I don't wanna talk about it."
"Good luck there," Catriona said drily. "There's not really other options. Milk out of the cupboard, please, you know where its place is." Really, she and Kirley had both been reasonably tidy children. That's what happened when children spent seven years with house elves picking up after them day after day, it made them careless. It really was a wonder they hadn't made themselves ill by now. "No, leave the carrots out. No, onions too. If you want lunch you're going to help me with it. And kindly refrain from slamming the cupboard door, if you don't mind."
She chose to ignore it that little ugh and the accompanying eye-rolling. If you made a fuss over every little thing you'd never stop fighting.
"I shouldn't hafta talk," Meaghan burst out, as she always did eventually. You just had to keep her in the room and a little off-balance. "I ain't the one brought it up. Some kid just had a mouth so she grew one too and then someone had to see it."
"She was standing up for you, from what Kirley said." He'd shown her the conversation too, to prove it had happened (neither of them quite past the "ghost" that broke her favourite Celestina Warbeck record), but Meaghan was more likely to keep talking if she kept this all secondhand. "It's a good friend who'll do that."
That was why she'd been so curious to meet this McGonagall woman. Her own work, of course, that was interesting. But she wasn't the sort of friend her daughter usually had. Not the sort either of her children had. Not that there was anything wrong with the Willison type, and it was a relief to see the girls got on despite that little Circe affair. Anyone who could fight with Meaghan over Kirley and then make up again was worth keeping around. But meeting, working together, befriending during a war and then maintaining that bond afterward… that was special. And she knew a Meaghan Catriona never had.
"You can stand up without spilling their shi- secrets around."
Catriona sighed. "It won't do you any harm," she said, almost gently. "Merlin knows you need the good publicity." She could tell she'd said either the wrong or the right thing by the way Meaghan's mouth twisted. "What?"
"That's what Miracle said, that I could use it. Only she said it could backlash too so I don't fu- know who she thinks she's kiddin', pick one and make your mind up over it."
"Backlash?"
"Wants to have my post checked and sh- all. Sympathizers, whothefuckknows." Meaghan winced at the look she shot her, but for once it wasn't about her language, and thank Merlin for Meaghan's poor eye contact when she got emotional because Catriona needed a moment to compose herself too.
Sympathizers. What an awful, chilling, enraging word that was, even this much later. But the late war hadn't been Catriona's first, and she knew that it wasn't all done and back to normal just because one man died. However evil the man was, there'd been more with him.
Meaghan had been right not to tell her what she was doing. She'd wanted her to come away from her flat in the middle of it all, tried to get her to come home, but the girl had fought it tooth and nail. And because she had, more people had survived. She was a grown woman, technically, and had made a decision she had every right to make, and the world (or at least the lives of a few people, she didn't know how many) was better for it. But she still wanted to push that silly girl into her room and lock it tight until this was over.
Merlin, how had she ever ended up with these children? Her mother always said what goes around comes around, but she hadn't tried to risk her life for anyone, she'd just wanted to live her own. Maybe that was the same thing to those old morals, living her life and risking her soul. She couldn't remember. It hadn't seemed that risky, once you got over a few hurdles.
"Well, maybe she has a point then."
"Which?"
That look was for sassing. "If there is a… risk, it's wise to take precautions." It was an opening, after all, and she'd be fool not to use it. "Maybe you should spend some time away from your flat, just until things calm down."
"I'm not stayin' here."
"Merlin forbid," Catriona said irritably. Really, was it that bad spending time with her? Meaghan'd seemed to like her well enough growing up. Not so much she wasn't eager to get off to school, but she'd been proud of her and wanted to hear all her stories. "I was thinking of the Cattery, actually. Why not?" she said, at Meaghan's skeptical look. "There's another bedroom, and your friends will be there, and it's not that rancid flat you've been festering in for the last decade or so, which everyone knows you live in. If you want to avoid being harassed, there's worse places to go."
"It's Paisley," Meaghan said, as if that was all you needed to say on the matter.
"I don't know where you got the idea that it's such a cultural wasteland up here, but I assure you that there are, in fact, things to do in Paisley. It wouldn't kill you to live in Scotland again, not even socially. Honestly," she said, "you'd think I raised you to be ashamed of Scotland. Scottish people should live in Scotland. Scottish Quidditchers should live in Scotland. Players for Scotland should live in Scotland." And she was going to very patiently ignore that Meaghan was mouthing along with those last few sentences. Better they know what you think, even if they think you're a broken record.
"Do you even really want to go back to the place where it all happened, especially if people might be hounding you over it all? You're hardly even home anyway, so what does it matter where you live for a little while?"
Meaghan looked away. That one had gone through the hoop if she knew her daughter -- though these days she wasn't always sure she did. "Just think about it," she said softly.
"And grab one of those knives. I'm sure it's been years since you've chopped anything by magic and I don't want you slicing up my cupboards."
***********
"Hey, stop flailing. God, you're still so restless in bed. Time for moving's before you get off."
She snorted. That was a good sign, even if his mouth was damn near full of her hair still. That bit wasn't one he'd missed.
"Hey, what's got you so het up anyway? I know it was good, but settle down already."
"Pffffft," Meaghan said, or whatevered since pfft wasn't really a word even if it was one of her top ten favourites besides all the swears. "Don't flatter yourself mate, this ain't over you."
"Yeah? What is it then?" She grunted irritably and shifted from him, but Donnie leaned back in and teased right in her ear, "C'mon, you can marry me and shag me and save my life but you can't tell me what you're pissed over?"
"Urgh, go away," she said, reaching an arm back behind to swat at him.
"And give up keeping you warm? Nah. Solemn duty, this. You'd freeze without me here." He waited a moment for her to settle back against him again. She did like being held, whatever she might try to pretend. "It's not about that though. Really?"
"S'not."
"What then?"
She sighed. "I think I gotta move."
"What? Why?" She'd always lived here, as long as he'd known her. She liked it even though it wasn't anything special, wasn't big or had good light or as good as she could afford. Had to be something big if she'd leave over it, and the only thing he could think was they were gonna tear it down. But that wouldn't be a maybe thing. "When?"
"Dunno. Soon."
"Why?"
"They're gonna write about… war shit."
"Then it is about that," he said.
"It ain't 'cause it ain't about you."
"Bullshit," he said, exasperated. "I'm in it just as much." How could she think that he wouldn't come into it? After all that, and all this? And everyone knew he'd escaped, he'd been vocal enough once he made it safe to Europe. He'd just never said how. Vultures would come at him as soon as they had ten minutes to think about it.
"You ain't the one they gave a fuckin' medal to."
Donnie was unimpressed. "If you don't like your fuckin' medal, melt it down or throw it out."
She just grunted, and he rested his hand on her stomach lightly, because Meaghan McCormack wasn't a person you tried to hold tighter. "Hey," he said, bumping the back of her neck with his forehead, like a cat. "Maybe you could come to mine."
He didn't make it a question. He didn't want it to be a question, just an offer. Just an idea. No obligation. No kissing a trail up her shoulder to change her mind. No pulling her in for another round. He'd learned awhile ago that you couldn't convince Meaghan of anything she didn't already want to do.
He knew she understood because she was quiet, and didn't ask any stupid questions, like why.
"Reckon not."
"Why not?" he said, managing to make it sound almost casual. Pretty much how he'd proposed, too. Practically the same words even.
"Didn't work last time, why would it now?"
His lips twitched in a grin that she couldn't see, but could probably feel. "Fair enough," he agreed. Saving his life didn't have to change things, at least not more than just getting them back to normal. This wasn't the kind of thing that worked for long. It was affection, attraction, friendship, familiarity. Maybe a little gratitude, now. Probably wasn't really love like that, like they'd thought. Well, he'd thought.
That was okay. It was still good. And he'd got back more of her than he ever thought he'd get again.
"You gonna be okay, Moe?"
Pause. "Reckon so."
"That the truth or you just hoping I'll shaddap?"
"Both."
"Bullshit." She wouldn't be thinking of moving if it was going to be all right. But it wasn't like she had to tell him about it. "Hey," he said, grinning. "Want me to sing you to sleep?"
"With your voice?"
"Hey, you love it." She didn't argue so still grinning, Donnie started to sing softly into her ear, "Baby, I'm hot just like an oven, I need some lovin'." Aha, she snorted, she recognized it. "And baby, I can't hold it much longer, it's getting stronger and stronger."
Meaghan was laughing her dirtiest laugh, and he could hardly get the words out himself but he managed to choke out, barely holding onto something like the right tune, "And when I get that feeling I want sexual healing…" before it all fell apart and they were both left cackling, his face pressed to the nape of her neck and his mouth filling up with her hair again. This was the part he'd missed -- still not the hair, the making her laugh.
It was dangerously close to becoming a moment, though, and he couldn't do that right now, so as soon as he got his breath back he said, "Want another? Pa ham mae dicter, o Myfanwy, yn llenwi'th lygaid duon di?" And that was as far as he got before she reached back and started swatting him again, so as far as Donnie was concerned it worked like a charm. He knew it'd be worth it to learn the Welsh on that one, it never failed to piss her off. And he didn't even have to learn all the words since she never let him get that far.
"Hey, hey, calm down already," he said, still laughing. "It's just a joke, Moe," and he tickled her stomach. "Really now. For real. This is a good one, you'll like it. Really."
He let out a breath, waiting for her to settle back again (though she was still a little stiff from Myfanwy, but that wouldn't last), rested against the back of her head, spat a little bit of hair out of his mouth, and sang, "I don't know if you can see the changes that have come over me. In these last few days I've been afraid that I might drift away…"
There. She'd calmed down, stopped elbowing him (damn, she had some pointy elbows) and even put her hand over his. If you were looking for signs of approval, that would probably do.
He went on singing. Her breathing slowed and his voice went gentler. You couldn't always do much for Meaghan, she didn't tell you what she wanted half the time (did she even know, half the time?) and wouldn't let you help her sometimes either. But he could do this much.
"Oh, but let me tell you that I love you, that I think about you all the time. Caledonia you're calling me and now I'm going home. If I should become a stranger you know that it would make me more than sad. Caledonia's been everything I've ever had..."
His voice trailed off. She was sleeping soundly, deep, even breaths, the kind made you think she might be smiling.
Donnie sighed, kissed her shoulder, and tried to get some sleep himself.