Daphne Greegrass (ndr_daphne) wrote in newdarkrising, @ 2008-05-04 22:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | char: tracey davis |
Who: Tracey and Daphne
Where: Tracey's flat
When: Apr 13, before Tracey's birthday party (Backdated)
What: Tracey finally comes clean about her relationship with Seamus Finnigan
Where was that red and onyx bracelet? Tracey scrounged around her room, kept immaculately tidy for her by the house elf that the landlady had provided. Although everything was neatly organized, Tracey still had trouble finding things. She hadn't been spending a lot of time in her own flat lately -- when she wasn't out shopping or partying, she was at Finnigan's flat. She still thought it was far too small for two people (and a cat!) to putter around in, but she certainly wasn't going to invite him over to her place. That left her fairly living in a hovel, then, something that she didn't want anyone to know about. But given Daphne's concern over her, she couldn't very well let her friend keep on fretting. She just hoped that Daphne wasn't going to judge. Much.
Daphne had laid out her outfit for the party and Tracey's present on the bed before she left. She didn't want to have to rush when she popped home to change after all.
Checking everything was ready for later, she glanced once more around her flat and apparated to Tracey's, knocking on the door as soon as she arrived.
The house elf - Kitschy? Floozie? Tracey couldn't remember - opened the door, having checked and confirmed that it was Daphne as per Tracey's orders, and showed Daphne in to the sitting room. A few seconds later Tracey floated out among a waft of perfume, Daphne's necklace dangling from one of her hands. "Daphne, I can't decide which scent to use tonight." She thrust her wrist in front of her friend. "Make up my mind for me."
Daphne sniffed at her friends wrist, trying to distinguish the scents but swiftly gave up. "I have no idea, they've all mixed together on your skin," She answered, reaching out for her necklace. "Go and wash them off then bring the bottles out her for me to smell."
"But then you can't tell how it smells on my skin," Tracey complained. "Here." She reached for her wand and brought out the various smells one by one for Daphne's perusal. Not too quickly, though -- she still wasn't sure how she was going to tell Daphne about Finnigan; hopefully something would occur to her if she stalled long enough.
Daphne obediently bent to sniff again at her friends wrist. She had been going to make Tracey take them off and put them on again one be one, but the scents were reasonably clear this way. "The second, I think." She said. "Let me smell them again."
And so Tracey went through the options again, but still nothing came to mind as to how she was going to break the news to Daphne. Brazening it out was going to have to do; that was her default method of coping, anyway. But brazening it out usually meant pretending that she didn't care what the other person thought, and she did care about what Daphne was going to say. Very much.
"Definitely the second one." Daphne made an appreciative noise and sat on the sofa. "It's a delightful scent, Tracey. Whatever is it?" She asked, looking at her friend. It was unlike Tracey to delay a conversation with small talk; clearly something was making her friend uncomfortable. Daphne patted the sofa beside her in invitation and ordered the elf to bring them both a glass of wine.
"What is wrong, Tracey? You did not ask me here for advice on perfume."
"Oh, it's the a priori scent I got in Milan," Tracey said as she put away her wand. She settled on the couch next to Daphne, somewhat reminded of their last heart to heart in Milan. It wasn't so dire a topic to be discussed now, but it weighed just as much on her mind. "You don't have to worry, you know. Adrian and I are over."
"I thought it sounded familiar." Daphne replied, quietly.
"Really?" She asked, uncertainly. "You know it isn't that I dislike him, Tracey. Adrian is a lovely chap, but you two always seem to hurt each other so."
"It was only the once," Tracey said defensively, although she could see why Daphne was so concerned. That was the one and only time she'd ever cried over a man.
She sighed. "But I'm sure. I think I'm finished with him anyway."
"Then why did you buy him robes, Tracey?" Daphne asked, still concerned. She had bought several presents for friends and family and knew Tracey had done the same, but Tracey had mentioned everyone else she was buying for as she bought the gifts. That she had kept Adrian's present a secret was enough to make her worry.
Tracey looked pained. "They weren't for him." Which, of course, raised the question of who they were for, and Tracey braced herself and rushed into the answer before Daphne could ask it. "They were for Seamus Finnigan."
"Seamus..." Daphne trailed off a little lost. "When did you see Finnigan?"
Tracey grimaced, because she knew that once Daphne realised that Finnigan had been the bartender she'd been eyeing back at Ri-Ra three weeks ago, she'd be quite upset that Tracey hadn't told her anything. "Well, we both agreed to it about a week ago. But it's not exactly anything I like to admit to anyone, if you know what I mean. Don't tell Pansy. She'll laugh at me."
"A week? Tracey why didn't you say something?" Daphne asked, a little put out. She didn't like it when Tracey kept secrets from her. "I won't tell Pansy if you don't want me too, but I'm sure she wouldn't laugh at you. Seamus seemed a nice enough boy at school, if a little..." She hesitated looking for the right world. "explosive."
"Because he's a halfblood and a Mick," Tracey hissed, distressed. While she was glad that Daphne wasn't judging her on this -- and in fact seemed rather accepting -- she wasn't sure if Daphne quite understood the shame surrounding her relationship with him. "Of course Pansy's going to laugh. And of course I didn't say something. It's not really something anyone would want to brag about, is it?"
"There's worse things than being a half-blood, Tracey." Daphne was surprised at her friends vehemence. "If you were planning on marrying him, or having children together than it might be different, but there's no harm in having a little fun." She sat back and sipped at her wine, watching her friend. "As for his being Irish, it makes him somewhat uncultured but you were hardly planning on taking him to the Ballet, were you?"
She sat back and sipped at her wine for a moment, thinking. "This may actually work in our favour, you know." She turned and raised an eyebrow. "After all, no one can accuse you of sympathising with Walden if you're dating a Half-Blood, can they?
Tracey made a sharp, incisive gesture. "We're not dating! It's just a cheap shag, and even so I'm supposed to have higher standards than that. Once or twice, maybe it'd be all right, but nothing like a week." Distressed, she chugged down her wine. "Although I suppose you're right -- it'd make me look better to everyone else, especially if he's one of Potter's lot. Potter can't do any wrong, could he? But if Uncle Walden and the others find out..." she shuddered.
"A week is more than a cheap shag, Tracey darling." Daphne noted dryly. "You don't have to fall in love with the man, but openly dating him would do an awful lot for your defence you know." She finished her own glass and snapped her fingers for the elf to refill them both. "If he does approach you, stall him by saying you're toying with Seamus so that no one will suspect your sympathies lie with Waldon and that you're using him to get close to Potter's crowd, then run like hell to the Ministry and tell them everything you just said to Waldon, demanding to see Seamus at the same time and weeping onto his shoulder in relief as soon as he appears. You look like a dutiful citizen who is everso fond of her Half-Blood boyfriend to the Ministry and Waldon either gets caught or thinks you're trying to gain him information." Daphne shrugged and took a sip from the full glass the elf handed her. She honestly didn't see what Tracey was getting worked up about; it would be simple enough to play the Irish boy and Waldon was highly unlikely to approach Tracey anyway.
It all made sense, and yet Tracey remained troubled. Openly dating an Irish halfblood would definitely do wonders for her reputation in this happy touchy-feely world, but it felt too much like selling out her values. Wasn't that what Charlotte did 7 years ago? Pretending to be one of the Good Guys to make Potter and his lot happy? Tracey had been so disgusted by her sister then; she couldn't possibly do the same now. Besides which, it was just...embarrassing. It would be like some sort of admission that she couldn't manage to find someone better. Which she could, obviously. She just didn't want anyone doubting that.
"I don't see why it has to be public at all," she said sulkily. "I'm telling you, of course, but I don't have to tell anyone else. He'll just be someone I go to if I get an itch."
"Do you want my advice, or do you want someone to tell you you're lovely and no man would ever change that? Daphne asked a little impatiently. "I can say and mean both, but you need to decide what you want from me."
"You'd say that no man would ever change that, and that's why I'm telling you about him, but can you imagine what everyone else would say?" Tracey pointed out. "What do you think Pansy's going to say? Or Draco? No, it's not worth the grief. It's not going to last long enough for it anyway."
"If you're sure, Tracey" Daphne said, leaning back on the cushions. She frowned and reached around to adjust them then settled back with a sigh. Tracey had clearly made up her mind and Daphne knew from experience that nothing she said could change it until Tracey herself asked for advice. Making herself comfortable, she took another sip of her wine and settled in for a good gossip. "What's he like then?" She asked, trying not to smirk. "They say the common element are a delightful sin."
"And how," Tracey said, eyes gleaming at the memory of how delightfully sinful Seamus could be. "The thing about being with someone who's not at all proper is that he knows how to be very improper. In fact..." And she started launching into an account with too much information on just what those improper things entailed. It was exciting to be able to share them with someone, because certainly the acts were exciting in themselves.
Daphne grinned at her friend's expression, sipping her wine and sinking further into the sofa. Her expression grew more and more scandalised as Tracey described exactly what she had been spending her evenings doing. And her mornings and afternoons too by the sound of it. "Tracey Davis!" She laughingly exclaimed. "Are you telling me lies? I don't think half of that is even possible!"
"Oh, but it is," Tracey said complacently. She took a sip of her wine to pull herself back together. Even describing all of that was getting her excited; she wondered if she could pay Finnigan a quick visit before her party. "You should try some of it some time. Only not with Finnigan."
"With whom, Tracey?" Daphne asked, dryly. "I have the worst luck in the world with men and well you know it." She sighed a little wistfully. "They all seem to want to be my friend, but none of them ever want something more."
"What?" Tracey said indignantly. "That's ridiculous. You're gorgeous; any man should be able to see that." Except Finnigan. "You're simply not meeting the right men, that's all. Let me introduce you to a few boys tonight. If you don't go home with someone, that'll be entirely your fault."
"I know that and you know that, but the men clearly do not." She laughed. "I'm fine, Tracey, really." She was. Her marital status, or lack thereof, wasn't really that much of a sore point. "I have wonderful friends who are the most delightful people in the world. I don't need a man, I manage perfectly well without." She continued, smiling. "Thank you for the offer, but I don't want someone to take home for a night, darling. I want..." Dinner and conversation, a proper date, taking a cruise along the Seine and dancing on deck, cuddles before a fire and arguments over having to visit in laws. Every cliche in the world. Sex was all very well, but... "a relationship."
"Oh," said Tracey, wrinkling her nose. She didn't understand that particular desire (although she supposed there was something to be said about knowing where you were going to wake up on any given morning), but she supposed she could be supportive of this if she tried. "Well, maybe you'll meet someone who'll want a relationship too. I know Nikolai's always going from one girlfriend to another."
I don't exactly want someone who's going to leave me for another woman, Tracey." Daphne said, wrinkling her nose. "Besides, Nikolai?" She made a face of slight distaste.
"Nothing wrong with Nikolai," Tracey said defensively. "I was with him for an entire week. Of course, that was before he started to lose his hair... And really, you can make sure whoever you're with doesn't leave. You're so clever with people, Daphne; you should know how to keep a man interested. If you want guaranteed devotion, you might as well get a Hufflepuff."
"He's lovely." Daphne placated. "He's hardly my type though, is he? And I know I cannot guarantee that whomever I am with will never leave me, but I would rather avoid starting a relationship with the certainty it will not last." She took another sip of her glass and realised she'd finished again. She was drinking her wine entirely too quickly. Summoning the elf to refill her glass again she took a sip then placed it on the table behind her, determined to make this glass last. "I've never had the chance to learn how to keep a man, darling. None of them have ever been interested enough to give me a chance." She sighed, then choked a little at Tracey's suggestion of a Hufflepuff. "Tracey! There's no need to be flippant!"
"Why not?" Tracey asked, slyly teasing. "You know they're going to stick around, because really, when will they ever get so lucky again? And then there's that loyalty thing. What about Macmillan, then? I hear he's still aiming for Minister of Magic."
"Tracey!" Daphne laughed. "Macmillan? Really? if you must suggest ridiculous possibilities a least pick the best of the bunch!"
And Tracey pounced. How could she not, with an opening like that? "Who is the best of the bunch, then?"
Confronted with having to actually give a name, Daphne admitted defeat. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it." She was sure there must be one decent Hufflepuff, but she couldn't remember any of the boys at school being particularly special.
Tracey sat back against the sofa, disappointed. Here she'd been hoping to catch Daphne out on her sordidly secret love of a 'puff. Next to that, a Gryffindor wouldn't be so bad. "Maybe Macmillan is the best of the bunch, then." The Hufflepuffs used to have Cedric Diggory, of course, but that felt like an entire lifetime ago, back when Tracey still blushed when she was kissed. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll meet someone soon. There's always Theodore, too. He's so sweet. And Adrian -- he can't be interested in his Hufflepuff for all that much longer, and he was a perfectly devoted boyfriend."
"I've known Theodore and Adrian for years and they've never once shown the slightest interest in me." Daphne pointed out. It still smarted a little, that none of the boys in her House had ever thought her worth approaching. "They're not likely to start now."
"It's because they're afraid of you," Tracey told her. "A lot of boys were, because you're so poised and confident that they were sure you'd just laugh at them -- or hex them -- if they tried to approach you. So obviously, you need to be less scary and find someone braver."
"They were never afraid of me." Daphne said firmly. She knew she was well brought up and perfectly behaved, but no one could accuse her of being so confident she scared boys. Not during school at least. "I just wasn't to their taste, that's all." She laughed when Tracey mentioned bravery. "So you're saying I need to find a Gryffindor now? Surely that's your territory, darling." She added, slyly.
Now it was Tracey's turn to choke. "I don't exactly plan to make a habit of it. Trust me; it won't be long before the novelty wears off. Until then, I'll just enjoy myself."
"Oh, I don't know." Daphne said airily. "You know what they say, the lion's a passionate creature. Once you've seen him you'll never be the same." She teased. "I think you're going to have to keep him Tracey. Or you'll be doomed to search for a bigger and better Gryffindor." She paused and tilted her head thoughtfully. "You know," She said. "I think Potter's still free. Maybe you can get rid of Seamus after all.'
Tracey made a dramatically gagging noise. "Don't even joke about that," she ordered. "I hate Potter and his self-righteous smugness. If it weren't for him I'd still...Daddy would still be..." All traces of humour gone, Tracey looked away.
"Would you really want to live in a world where the Dark Lord won?" Daphne asked, soberly. "I would give anything to have our old friends and relatives back, but would you want to live in the world the Dark Lord wanted?"
"We would have been all right," Tracey said quietly. "I'd live in a lot of worlds if I had Daddy and Mummy and Julian with me." Even if it meant that enslavement for everyone who didn't make the mark. Even if it mean enslavement or death for people like Finnigan, maybe.
"You would. "Daphne emphasised softly. "My family did not swear loyalty, Tracey. No matter how close Miguel came. We had no guarantees." She shook her head sadly and reached for her wine. "However have you managed to do all that with Seamus in such a short time?" She asked, changing the subject.
And that's where Tracey differed from even as close a friend as Daphne, because Daphne couldn't entirely understand how much Tracey had lost when the war had been. Not that Daphne had an entirely easy time of it either, so Tracey decided not to belabour the point. She was jolted by the abrupt change in topic, anyway. "Do what?"
"All those things you were describing." Daphne smiled. "How did you have time to do them all in a week? And how are you still able to walk?"
Ah, here was a topic that Tracey was much happier to talk about. "Oh, but the man can go on. Annnd...." She grimaced, knowing how her friend was going to take this next bit of news. "It's been more than a week. Week and a half, maybe. Officially, if there's anything to make official. Before that it was just once or twice here and there."
Daphne looked steadily at her friend. "Once or twice before the week? Exactly how long has this been going on, Tracey?" She asked, quietly.
"Well, it's only been 'going on' for the week, really," Tracey rushed to assure her friend. "You know how it is. One night here and there, that doesn't mean anything. But if you really must know when the first time was, it was at that bar you took me to in Potatoland. Turned out he was the bartender."
Daphne did a quick calculation in her head then scowled at her 'friend'. "Three weeks." She said, trying to hold on to her temper. "You've been seeing a man for three whole weeks and never said a word to me?" Daphne swallowed a gulp of her wine and clenched her jaw. "You must be ashamed of him to hide it this long." Daphne knew she was being spiteful, but she couldn't believe Tracey would hide something from her for this long.
Tracey grimaced. She had a feeling Daphne would react this way, which was why she'd stressed that it'd meant nothing until a week ago. "A week!" she defended. "Before that it was nothing. And of course I'm ashamed of him. Why do you think I asked you not to tell Pansy? Can you imagine taking him anywhere?"
"It is not a week, Tracey Davis" She said coldly. "I was there that night and you never once mentioned that'd you'd decided Finnigan was to your taste, or even that it was Finnigan."
She finished her wine and plonked the glass on the table. "You should take him to meet Charlotte." She smirked. "She'd never complain about the men you date again."
"Well, I didn't find out until I actually got up there," Tracey said defensively. She shuddered at the thought of taking him to her sister. "If Charlotte meets him she'd have me married off to some old fogey before I could blink. I'm not taking him to meet anyone. Another week or so, and I'll be done."
"You could have mentioned it the day after. Or anytime since." She thawed a little as she remembered it had been Tracey's mother's funeral, but not enough to forgive her. "She wouldn't dare. She might try to cut you off though."
"If you were shagging Finnigan would you want to shout it from the rooftops?" Tracey hissed anxiously. Good in bed or not, he was still entirely unsuitable, and it was only because she knew that Daphne was more adventurous than the usual pureblood like her sister that she'd admitted it at all. "It wouldn't come to that, anyway. Charlotte's not meeting him."
"Then keep it a secret from her." Daphne replied, completely ignoring Tracey's worry. "It's not like you find it hard to hide him."
"I'm telling you," Tracey said determinedly, "it's not going to be an issue. Once I get bored of his tricks I'll be gone and I won't have to hide anything."
"Fine. Keep hiding him. I don't care." Daphne stared at Tracey and did not move.
"I just said I'm not going to have to hide him for much longer," Tracey said, starting to get annoyed now. She wasn't very good at being put on the defensive. "What?"
"Sometimes I don't understand you at all, Tracey." Daphne shook her head, clearly still annoyed. "If you are so ashamed of him, if you hate him so much, how can you bear to have him touch you?"
"I don't hate him. I just..." Tracey broke off with a grimace. She didn't understand it either, and it bothered her. She didn't understand why she couldn't keep her hands off him or why she thought of him whenever she wasn't with him. She liked to think of it as simple lust: that was easy enough to explain away. Anything else was scary and confusing. "As I said," she mumbled, "he's good in bed."
"Good in bed." Daphne stared blankly. "You're ashamed of everything about him, but you don't hate him." She repeated. "Yet you let him touch you because he's good in bed."
"Well, I wouldn't let him touch me if he were bad in bed," Tracey pointed out. "Does he need to be anything else? It's just a shag, Daphne, not a lifetime commitment."
"I just cannot understand how you can sleep with someone you cannot agree with or respect." She shook her head and stood. "I'm not arguing with you over this, it is silly and rather pointless. We do not agree, but it is hardly the first time we've differed in our points of view."
"It's just a shag," Tracey repeated. "It means nothing." And it was true, to an extent. Tracey slept around as a matter of course. Sometimes it was to scandalise her sister, sometimes it was to pull a power play over another woman, and sometimes she was just too drunk to refuse. Whatever the case, the men didn't mean anything to her. She refused to think that Finnigan was any different. Even if she did actually like being around him outside of bed. But Daphne was right: they'd never see eye to eye on it. Daphne wanted hearts and roses and happily ever afters. Tracey didn't think they existed. It was a fruitless argument, and Tracey was getting bored of it anyway.
"All right, then," she said, getting up as well. "I should finish getting ready for the party. We'll have so much fun, Daphne. I can't wait."
"It will be marvelous," Daphne replied, thawing as they forgot their argument and turned to discussing the party. She smiled at Tracey and moved towards the door. "I'll see you in a couple of hours, darling."