InsaneJournal

RP : Better than a Half-Breed.
Date: Friday Afternoon, 24 July 1997
Characters: Marietta Edgecombe, Padrig Cadwallader
Location: Their Shared Flat.
Status: Private
Summary: Marietta is annoyed that a half-breed is getting married before her and as with most things Padrig and Marietta end up quarreling. Some vague domestic violence but nothing too graphic. Oh and some language.
Completion: Complete



"Ridiculous," she complained out loud to herself as she read bits and pieces of a wedding announcement for Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. She closed the paper with a loud frustrated groan. They'd let anyone get married these days. It wasn't as if the Weasley family wasn't enough of a joke now they had to go and marry half-breeds? She didn't just hate anyone related to the Weasley clan because their connection to Harry Potter. She hated them for having the nerve to act like anyone actually cared and for making the whole happily ever after thing look so easy. She didn't have it easy. She didn't want to read about the fact that Fleur "Dumb Veela Bitch" Delacour had lured someone in with her voodoo powers and was getting to go down the aisle before she was.

Just thinking about it made her glare over in Padrig's direction. If he wasn't so infuriating things, they might would have been moving in some way similar to that. She should be the one announcing her wedding not some French whore. He couldn't have just made things right months ago and gotten her a ring. He couldn't have lived up to her parent's standards like she'd always wanted him to either. Why did he always have to fall short in all the things that mattered? Just thinking about it made her clench her fists into the closed paper and in seconds she was smacking him over the head with it.

"This is all your fault," she said in frustration. "If you weren't so completely incompetent my wedding announcement would be filling these pages instead of this rubbish. You were never man enough to do the proper things. You wouldn't begin to know how to please me or my parents. You're always going to be a worthless bastard that even your own mother couldn't love."

Perhaps a low blow. Her own ego was offended at the moment and his deserved the same.

Padrig rubbed his head before wrenching the paper from her hand. "What are you on about?" he asked, used to her outbursts by now and barely paying it any attention.

He opened out the section and read it, one eyebrow going up as he did.

"Had your cap set for Weasley, did you? Well, chin up, I hear the youngest is still single. And there's always the one that works with you at the Ministry."

“- Of course you’d think that,” she said with a scowl.

Marietta huffed back to her seat and crossed her arms indignantly. How could he even begin to suggest such a thing? She had far better taste than that. The scarred, the brown noser and the Potter wannabe were not even on her radar. No one was really. She was a creature of habit. She wasn’t even sure that she should dignify any of what her habit had said with a response though. She couldn’t bite her tongue when it came to him though either. She never did hold back what she was thinking.

“I’d never lower myself to those standards but I’m starting to think maybe they would be a step up from you though,” she told him. “ Remind me what I ever saw in you. ”

He set the paper down and looked over at her. "Don't know, actually, I thought it was because I was just the right mix of doormat and bastard for you, love." She was sulking, and he had to say he rather liked it when she sulked. It made her look somewhat pinched, yet pretty too.

Not to mention that in the old days it had always ended quite satisfactorily on both parts.

She was still pouting and he nudged her with one foot. "What are you going on about? The fact that someone's getting married and its not you? We had something good going at one point may I remind you, but I was of the opinion you were the one that couldn't make your mind up whether to disappoint Mummy partly or completely. So you're straddling the fence by just living with me."

She didn’t treat him like that intentionally. She didn’t even really mean to hurt him most of the time. Things were different these days. Sometimes she wished there wasn’t so much water under this bridge. Bits and pieces of herself actually wanted to let him know that none of that was true. She knew how she treated him though. He was right. “Something like that,” she said eyes narrow and her nose crinkling as if she were looking into the sun. “You serve your purpose on occasion.”

The old days weren’t really that different from the present days. The only difference is there weren’t the same emotions openly. It didn’t mean that there weren’t there loitering underneath it all. It was just easier to be cold to get what she needed out of him and then back away. It wasn’t really fair but she couldn’t let go completely. It bothered her that he seemed to know this. This argument had played out a million times and it never changed.

She kicked him in the shin for nudging her with a one foot. “Don’t pretend to act like things aren’t convenient like they are. I only live here because this arraignment works. The only reason I’m not getting married is because it would be unfair to you to bring back all the other people who want me when you’re sleeping in the next room,” she rationalized. There really hadn’t been any romantic offers from other people. She liked to make him think she could easily go off and be with someone else if she wanted. “If you’re so sick of me straddling things maybe you should just ask me to move back to Mummy.”

His eyes darkened slightly as she talked about other people. He didn't like that idea. She was quite right in that he liked things as they were, liked it being the two of them, as dysfunctional as it was.

"I could do that," he said quietly, eyes on her. "Course, the cats probably wouldn't like it."

He reached down and rubbed his shin gingerly. "And you can bring someone else around to fuck if you want." Part of him knew she wouldn't. Just as part of him secretly enjoyed the thought of what he would do to her if she tried.

She rolled her eyes. That was exactly where things fell short. The cats wouldn’t like it? She would have liked to hear him tell her that he wouldn’t like it. There were a lot of thing she wanted to hear him say that she didn’t hope to hear anymore. She was used to this.

“I wouldn’t want Merfyn to feel put out,” she said watching him, “It’s good to know that our cats appreciate me and all my charms.”

She wished she had the nerve. Thinking about the look on his face if she stumbled in with someone else on her arm gave her a sense of glee. She could think up scenarios of Padrig reading and her and some charming handsome, pureblood guy strolling in and the other person taking her against the wall while Padrig was forced to watch.

“I wouldn’t need your permission,” she announced after a long moment, uncrossing her arms and gazing over his facial features. That was how she saw it but there was one thing... "You ever bring another female into my home and I'll hex your bollocks off though."

His eyebrows went up at that. "Well, if I was going to do it with another girl, I certainly wouldn't bring her home." He stood up then and considered heading for the kitchen, but there was something in her eyes that stopped him.

"So what's stopping you then?" He leaned over, his arms on either side of her chair, so she couldn't stand up. "Why don't you go out and find someone right now?"

Marietta tried hard to keep her composure but hearing him say that he wouldn’t bring another female home led her mind to think that maybe there were other girls and he already was doing this. She didn’t like how jealous it made her feel. They might not be together but he was still hers. She felt possessive and any female that overstepped that line would have to face her wrath. She wasn’t a murderer but she was pretty sure she might murder someone who tried to steal him away from her.

"Fuck you," she said under her breath. She couldn’t help but be a bit intimidated when he was blocking her in like that. All she could do was take it. She talked a lot of shit but they both knew why she didn’t go out find anyone. Deep down she didn't want to. “- Move – I don’t have to answer that.”

She could try to push her self up and past him but he was stronger than her. She knew that. She wasn’t going anywhere until he wanted her to go anywhere.

There was something about her like this. Something helpless and different than she usually was, it was a little flicker of fear in her eyes that he liked seeing, just as much as he liked seeing her lips part with want of him.

"Been a while since you fucked me," he said, not moving a single inch. Instead he leaned in, his mouth very close to her ear. "And I thought I asked you a question."

There was the tiniest bit of danger in his voice, because they both knew why they stayed together. Because they needed each other. And even if they didn't admit it, he knew there was something between them they wouldn't find with anyone else.

The nonchalance with which he said reminded her nearly killed her. It awakened the familiar ache between her legs and she had to close her eyes not to allow herself to get drawn in by it. She always wanted him but there was this part of her that wanted to keep him hungry. She wanted to deny him. She wanted to make him suffer. The longer she made him do without the longer she did without.

“It’s going to be a cold day in hell before I fuck you again,” she told him chewing her lip. She wasn’t doing so well with resisting. She always had been the one with the smallest amount of willpower. She was holding tight to her reserves though.

She opened her eyes, looking him firmly in the eye. “At this point, the most worthy person is my hand. When I meet someone who meets my standards then I will,” she finally told him to answer his question. She was bending to his will though not really. There were plenty of worthy, purebloods out there. She just didn’t want them. None of them did anything for her not like Padrig could just with words.

That made him smirk. "You know I always liked seeing you use your hand." He pulled back enough to meet her gaze.

"And you know, it's just because you know no one else will make you feel the way I did. Why else do you keep staying?" It wasn't just because they were friends.

His hand moved over hers, effectively trapping it in place. It had been a while since they'd touched more than casually. He didn't count the nights she came to his bed when it stormed and he held her close. That was a part of them neither of them talked about.

“Someday someone will make me forget you ever existed,” she told him. She wasn’t just saying it to try and make him angry. She was saying it because it was something she desperately wanted to believe. She wanted to think that there was something more out there. “Just because you’re the only one – I don’t recall anything special about you – you’re expendable just like everyone else.”

And his hand felt warm against hers. She let it linger for only a moment. She wanted to feel his body against hers, his lips against hers. Her eyes closed and she leaned a fraction toward his mouth before she caught herself. This happened more times than she’d like. This is why living together was dangerous. She couldn’t afford to let this happen again. She moved back and jerked her hand away from his.

“—I hate you. Don’t you get it?” she told him already knowing that she didn't hate him. This is what she always did. She rationalized why they were the way they were with lies. She couldn't even begin to be true to herself. They were both going to end up just more fucked up and hurt the longer they let themselves do this. Why couldn't she just let go? “We aren’t good for each other.”

The words hit him harder than he liked to admit. "We're good for each other," he said. "You just won't see it. Admit it." And that was part of it. That it was easier for her to say she hated him than for her to say the other things.

He started to pull away from her, feeling the anger she always made him feel churning in his stomach. But then he turned back.

"You want to find someone else?" he asked, eyes on hers. "If you do. Then walk away. This is your chance."

She stared at him for a long moment before standing up. She couldn’t make her legs move though. She couldn’t walk out the door. It wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last and she knew it. She could feel her heart beating in her chest and then her hand rose and she struck him across the face.

“—I’m going to bed,” she said icily though she still wasn’t moving. There was nothing apologetic in her demeanor. The only way to deal with emotion was to be cold. She didn’t know any other way to protect herself. A part of her wanted to make him hate her. The bigger part of feared the day that he actually did.

She shook her head in frustration. “You’ve just read one too many books,” she said. “You think it’s all going to turn out to be some big happy ending and you’re living under some delusions. Me and you we … fight but you don’t know how to fight for anything. You’re a coward who missed his chance months ago to fight for me.”

His face stung from where she'd slapped him, and he felt anger rising in his chest. Fast and furious. Anger and hurt.

He'd taken it from her again and again, the insults, the slurs, all the inferred hints that their failed relationship was all his fault.

"Why would I fight for you when you treat me like shite," he hissed. He wanted to hit her. All the things he'd done to her and he'd never outright hit her, not like she hit him. Hurt her in other ways, yes. But not quite like that. Not that it seemed to stop her.

Instead he grabbed her wrist to stop her from hitting him again. His fingers dug into her wrist, hard enough to leave bruises.

"You're not going anywhere," he said. "And believe me, I've already realized I'm not getting the fucking happy ending, Marietta. But neither are you."

He pulled her to him and kissed her, hard, almost viciously, his free hand coming up hard into her hair and not letting her pull back.

"You like hitting me," he murmured against her mouth. "Some day I'm going to hit you back, Marietta. You want that, don't you?"

Her eyes watched him though she never cried. She only cringed when she felt his fingers digging into her wrists. He was hurting her physically and mentally but she could take it. She wasn’t weak like all the other girls. She wasn’t going to crumble and cry.

"I will get my happy ending," she insisted if only to anger him further. They existed and once this war was over she’d find it. Things had a way of working themselves out. She believed when the time was right she’d figure out where she was supposed to be.

It couldn’t be here. Not with sharp pains shooting into her arms with his fingers or struggling against his mouth. She only allowed herself to kiss him back for a moment before she bit him hard enough to draw blood.

“Get off me,” she growled against his mouth, “- I don’t want you. I don’t want any of this...”

What she wanted the most was the pain to stop though. She wanted the pain to turn into something better, healthier. The emotional pain hurt more than his hands ever could hurt her though. She wanted to not want him even when he was doing this to her. She might could say one thing but her eyes said more than enough of the truth.

He pulled back, blood running from his lip, his hand coming up to it and looking at her, pain in his eyes. He didn't know how to fight for her. Didn't know how to give her what she wanted.

"But I want you," he said. "I've always wanted you, Marietta." He looked down at her and then gently released her arm, his eyes taking in the red marks.

"I'm sorry I'm not what you wanted," he finally said. "I just... I want you back. And I have no idea how the fuck to go about that." He still wasn't even sure why they were broken up or if they even were most of the time.

She sank unsure exactly what to even begin to tell him at first. The truth was much less complicated. She wanted him back. She missed him even when he was driving her up a wall. The missing him probably had a great deal to do with why he drove her up the wall. Most of the time she really didn’t even think he missed her at all. There were other factors though: Wars, and parents and jobs.

She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Expressing positive feelings hadn’t been something that came easy to her in some time.

“You shouldn’t want to go back,” she told him. She didn’t see any reasons why he should want this or her. He’d be better off without her. She knew as much. She didn’t want him to want to be without her though. It a mild damned if you do, damned if you don’t moment. And the look in his eyes had her crumbling, her hands reached to touch both sides of his face before she kissed him again. It was easier to distract than discuss.

He sometimes dreamed about kissing her, about how it felt. "I want to." He put his arms around her and pulled her closer and this kiss wasn't as violent, gentler, although his lip stung from where she'd bitten him.

She was warm and soft and inherently Marietta in his arms and he could feel her and smell her and sense her all around him when they kissed like this. His hands slid lower, along her spine, and he trailed kisses along her jaw.

"Tell me what you need me to be," he murmured. "I'll do anything to keep you. To get you back."

Marietta didn't fight back to letting his mouth trail or his hands touch her. Her head told her that it would have been for the best if she did but she didn't want to push him back. She didn't want to make him move away. When he kissed her like that it took her back to the more simple time. Everything was so complicated these days.

"I need an ally -- need to know you aren't going to go and get yourself killed," she told him honestly, hands curling into his hair as she felt his mouth at her jaw. It was in rare form to show concern. She was afraid she was going to lose him.

She couldn't protect him as easily when there were feelings involved. There were feelings involved either way though. She couldn't pretend otherwise. "We can't just let lust be our guide. There is a war here - we're only going to get ourselves hurt. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to protect us."

If there was any unspoken proof that she valued him it was the fact she'd tell him anything like that. It was something that could have been used against her. A weakness. He was a weakness all on his own though.

He pulled back and looked at her, his hand coming up to brush her hair back from her eyes. "I'd do anything I had to to keep us safe, Mari. Anything. I can be your ally." He meant it too. He'd already done things already this summer at the paper, things in his own best interest.

"And I'm not going to get killed," he said, his mouth curving up at one corner. "Not unless I really piss you off."

She attempted to step past him. Her body tightening in frustration and her arms flailed as she moved away. She was incredulous. “How can you even joke about this? I don’t want you to do anything to keep us safe. Anything means that you’re going to be reckless and get yourself killed trying to be some knight and shining armor and I can’t let you…”

She couldn’t let him do that. There was too big of a risk and she knew precisely what sorts of things were coming. She was coming unraveled just at the thought. She allowed herself to look at him again, her eye letting him know just how serious she was.

“Things are going to get tighter at the Ministry. I need to hear you say that if it was you or me, you’d save yourself,” she nearly demanded.

She couldn’t make him promise that. The odds are she couldn’t even promise something like that. She knew if he was in danger she’d go running in to save him. She’d lie, cheat and steal to keep him around. She wanted it to be true though.

He just looked at her, eyes intent. "I can't say that, Marietta. There isn't anyone but you I'd risk myself for. But I'd do whatever I had to keep you safe." Even joining the other side. He wouldn't tell her that though. Not now.

His hands dropped to his sides. "And I'm not a Knight in Shining Armor. Whatever I plan on doing, it doesn't involve me getting hurt."

“You can’t promise that,” she said about him getting hurt. He couldn’t promise that Death Eaters weren’t going to come and take him away. Her worst fear was that one day, she’d come home from work and he wouldn’t make it back and one day they’d call him in to identify his body. She wouldn’t be able to make it. Cho wouldn’t be enough to keep her head above water.

“I lo -” she started to tell him cursing her tongue for almost letting out those words. That was too much. “You know I care for you a lot. I’d die if something happened to you – I know I’ve been taking it out on you a lot lately but I’m stressed out and there is never any relief. I just can’t do it. I can’t have you dying on my conscious. ”

His eyes focused on her. "I'm not going to die, alright? I promise." It was a bit of a lie, but really, he didn't want to die or plan on doing so at anytime.

"And I care about you too, even if you are a wretched harpy most of the time." He smirked just a little bit.

She didn’t believe him and she crossed her arms again. She couldn’t argue this though. It wouldn’t get anywhere. It wasn’t something she wanted to be right about anyways.

“—I guess it isn’t so horrible as long as you don’t think I’m going to live in sin with you forever,” she said going back to her original argument. “One day I want an embarrassing large wedding announcement that pisses people off too... even if it is with a git like you. ”