A/N: Dedicated to JeanieLee, my Secret Santa over at TGS – Merry Christmas and I hope this cheers you up ^_^
Title taken from 'Because the Night' by Patti Smith.
---
The Night Belongs to Lovers
Bright lights spark up above our heads. The bangs and whistles compete with the sweeping wind that whips around us and I pray that they will never end. Ending will mean I have to go through with it, and doing that will be the hardest thing I've ever had to do. So I hold onto his gloved hand and pretend that there is nothing I want more than to stand in a freezing cold field in the middle of the Lake District and watch a fire burn out to nothing before our eyes.
I fit into the crook of his arm with an uncomfortable perfection. I glance up and absently twirl one of my curls around my fingers. I stop and let it unfurl around my lax grip. His arm tightens around my sturdy body and the sizzle of the bonfire dies away a little in the calm wind. Not now. Not yet. I'm not ready.
How can I do this without him receiving the millions of 'I told you so's that he'd been warned of? 'She'll never stay. She never does.' How can I keep his heart intact? How can I stop him from the inevitable hurt that my words will bring? A tiny part of me shouts up, from deep inside as though it needs to yell to be heard, "Don't do it." Another part, the dominant part, pushes down on the tiny figure, smothers it. Not doing it is a ludicrous idea. It's unthinkable.
My toes are starting to feel like they are part of my boots and I flex them nervously inside their prison. They scream at me and I relax again. My hands clench and unclench in and out of fists. Seeing this, he glances and takes them in his own again. My hands are so tiny that his wholly cover mine and the heat of his grasp warms me instantly.
"I love Bonfire Night," he murmurs, moving around me so he can rest his chin atop my head. His arms cross over my chest and I force myself to lean into him. He kisses my head again and I shake my head so my hair masks my grimace, not of disgust but of the pain of what is to come.
-::-
He was nineteen the first time I saw him properly. He had been the object of Lily's affections for months. She'd just reached the age where boys had become attractive and objects of more than verbal and physical abuse. We were having our annual gathering at Nanna Weasley's house. I'd met him before, many a time, but never had I seen him. Before, he'd been Teddy Lupin, unreachable, unattainable. Now, I thought he was the most gorgeous boy I'd ever laid eyes on. At eleven, preparing to go to Hogwarts, he became the face of the husband of my dreams, the boy that saved me from the burning buildings of my nightmares. One glance had imprisoned me in what I believed, in my naïve, eleven-year-old mind, to be a life sentence.
-::-
I shiver and he tightens his grip around me. I want to break free, to escape the cell I feel he's holding me in. I step out of his embrace and he takes the hint with a horrible solemnity. I stand a foot away, our hands linking together loosely. I'm not sure if I'm imagining that the warmth has gone, but then he pulls my hand tighter and I let my eyes flutter shut.
-::-
"Rosie!"
I cringed and turned to face him. He snorted upon seeing me. Thirty and as mature as he was when he was half that age, I grimaced, tucking a stray strand of hair into my bun.
"Shut up, Lupin." He covered his grin and coughed loudly. "Uncle George left some new Skiving Snackbox prototypes out. Hadn't made the antidote." He chuckled lightly. "Don't," I responded, though more half-heartedly, knowing how ridiculous the boils on my face looked.
"Sorry. Is Hugo in?" he asked, glancing over my shoulder to the door, as though he could see through it right into the living room. I followed his gaze stupidly.
"Er, yeah. Think so." I led him out across the hall and halted by the door. "Why?"
"Got something for him from Lily." He reached into his bag and pulled out a book. "Left it at hers last night." I peered at the title but he swept it from sight. Reading was not high on Hugo's priority list.
"Right," I murmured, as the twenty-five year old disappeared into my living room. I listened to the cheerful banter that the boys exchanged and then Ted poked his head back out to me.
"M'off," he informed me with a grin at my face. "Tell George I said nice one, yeah?" I cursed the door that formed a barrier between us because my leg was twitching to give him a well aimed kick. He winked and I turned my back on him. "Oh, and Rosie?" I glanced over my shoulder. "If you ever get bored of working for him, there's a paid internship going at work. Interview tomorrow at ten, if you're interested." Then with a grin and a pop, he was gone, leaving me with a huge grin on my face until I glanced in the mirror at my wart covered face.
"Bastard."
-::-
I don't notice that his hand has slipped from mine until he comes back with two sparklers. My gloved hand closes tightly around one and I draw my name in the air. I don't know what he's done to them but the writing sticks in the sky in front of us. He draws his own name and I look away as he breaches the gap between them with a misshapen heart like a lovesick teenager. He smiles down at me and I don't have to force one back as the memories of the past fly back.
-::-
"Thank you, sir," I responded confidently as the interview drew to a painful close. I had been up until five in the morning whilst my mother attempted to find a cure for my skin and now found myself slowly falling asleep in the chair opposite the Editor-in-Chief of the Prophet. The bearded man behind the desk shook my outstretched hand firmly and I ensured my grip matched his as my mother had taught me.
"I'll see you on Monday, then?" he offered. "Come straight up here and we'll get you ready."
"Brilliant. Thank you," I repeated, smoothing down my robes and turning from the room. Once the door snapped shut behind me, I exhaled deeply and rubbed a hand over my face with an incredulous laugh. Glancing behind me, I cast my eyes over the name plate on the office. It was real. I had a job interning, fully paid, with the Daily Prophet. Stepping slowly away from the door, my shoes gliding over the tiles, I turned to look down the corridor that was about to become more familiar to me.
"Rose!"
My eyes focused again and landed upon Teddy, his head poking out of a door a little way down the corridor. I should have restrained myself, my job only secured a few minutes earlier, but seeing him swept all sense of propriety and dignity from my previously professional state. I grinned at him as he stepped out into the corridor and I found myself flying towards him, my battered flats barely touching the ground until I used the tips of my toes to propel myself into his unsuspecting arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my mouth sitting beside his ear and my laugh must have tunnelled down his ear like a drill but it meant nothing to me. He squeezed me tightly and I detached myself from him as I realised what I'd done. My cheeks heated up as though someone had lit a match in my mouth as I caught sight of the smile he sent me. My stomach shifted uncomfortably and I stepped around him.
"I'll see you on Monday."
-::-
My sparkler runs down to its tip and he extinguishes it for me with the tip of his wand, hidden surreptitiously up the sleeve of his coat. The fireworks are dying away now, ready for the grand finale. The bonfire burns brilliantly again in the comatose wind, ruling the spectacle for the first time that night. His hand slips inside mine for the umpteenth time and I want to cry for change. Almost as an answer to my unspoken request, his hand jerks in my grasp and I watch the angle of his arm move with it. My eyes close. My breath hitches.
No.
-::-
"ROSIE!" he bellowed across the bar as I awkwardly stumbled my way out of the fireplace. The toxic yellow colour of his hair made me grin and I edged my way through the crowds. Christmas. I had been working at the Prophet for seven months now, feeling more and more confident in my ability every day. As I ducked past a man not much smaller than Hagrid, Teddy grabbed my arm and pushed a glass into my hand. "It's lovely!" he yelled and I winced.
"I'm right here, Ted!" I pointed out and he grinned madly. The line of empty glasses in front of him gave me an indication as to just how drunk he was and I smiled back, taking a sip of the spotted concoction he'd given me. It warmed me in an instant, the taste burning the back of my tongue for a second before the sensation passed and made my stomach churn welcomingly. I took another sip and turned to join the group
Two hours and twenty minutes later, I was completely legless. Almost literally. I'd managed to lose half a leg of my tights and had endless scrapes up and down my exposed calf from all the falling over I had managed. Coming back from the toilet [for what felt like the twentieth time that hour], I edged past a very drunk senior editor whose name escaped me and searched for the seat that I had vacated. Finding it filled by some minorly obese bearded man carrying a goose, I twirled on the spot and glanced to the bar. Teddy's hair had drifted back to a more natural dark brown and I stumbled to his side.
"Alright?" I asked, taking the glass he was spinning between shaking hands in my own and sniffing at the murky substance inside. He glanced down at me and smiled dizzily. He gave a slow nod then glanced up.
"Mistletoe," he slurred, pointing upwards. I steadied myself and followed his gaze to the oak bar above us.
"Ted, that's a wine glass," I exclaimed, not quite drunk enough to make that mistake yet. I looked back down to find his lips inches from my own.
"Oh well," he murmured back, closing the gap between us and pushing his lips against mine. It didn't matter that we were both supporting ourselves only by leaning on the bar, nor that the other's lips were stained with alcohol because it had been a long time coming. The tension seemed to float away and as we drew apart, our smiles were both those of happiness and certainty. It was sobering and together, only stumbling a little, we left hand in hand.
-::-
Now, my hand is limp against his. I stare down at the figure bent down in front of me, unable to meet his gaze for fear of what might happen, what I might say. I want to stop it. I have to but I can't. There is something in the gentle crease in the centre of his forehead, the crinkle that once made my heart beat faster, that makes me bite my lip anxiously.
"Rose."
His words are soft and mild and sit on top of the masses of conversations that are sweeping around us. I close my eyes, unsure of whether it is from the biting wind or the inability to watch his mouth move as he says the words I don't want to hear.
"Will you marry me?"
It has been four years. I am only twenty-four but he is eight years older. His friends have all settled down, some with kids. He doesn't have long before he's considered past it. He might not have another chance.
But I do.
Resisting the urge to groan at my insufferable rationality, I force my eyes wide and take every inch of him in, from his ruffled hair, blowing in the air, to the knee that's dug deep into the muddy ground. I open my mouth and the wind soars in immediately, almost choking me. I cough and squeeze my eyes together one last time.
It is one syllable.
Two letters.
N.
O.
I would need no explanation. I could run then Apparate somewhere that he would never suspect. I am not here to get married. I am here to end it.
Then why, if I was so sure of myself ten minutes ago, do I feel my heart sinking into my stomach as I see his expectant face? He is on the brink now, between confusion and upset. People around us are beginning to notice. I open my mouth and close it again a few times, struggling to breathe and his hand falls from mine. He breaks the gaze first, pushing himself up and walking away. He doesn't look back.
I hadn't expected to cry but the tears race down my cheeks before I can even think about stopping them. His figure stands out amongst the crowd. He's getting further and further away and now the stares are beginning to fade.
-::-
I rolled lazily over in the bed, my arm landing on the empty sheets on my left. Groaning, I peeked out of the corner of my eye at the clock. Half ten. I kicked the covers off me and slid out of bed, my feet carrying me without much concern for a destination. I grabbed my dressing gown from the back of the door and wandered out to the bathroom, tying my gown around me as I went. I yawned as I shut the door behind me, but a voice caught my attention and I squeezed it open again. Running a hand through my hair, I tiptoed to the kitchen door and listened attentively.
"- managed to tie her down –" the voice was saying. I leant against the doorframe and waited for them to go on. "Mum was completely terrified about her but she seems much calmer with you."
Hugo. Whilst my first thought should probably have been 'Why the hell is my brother in my kitchen at some ungodly hour of the day?', my brain was ticking over with intrigue to Teddy's answer.
"Well, I love her, mate."
"And she loves you?"
"I don't know. I know she cares but I don't want to push her –"
"It's been three years."
I let my hands clench at each other, my nails scraping against the backs of my hands nervously for his response.
"You said it yourself. She's flighty. I don't want to lose her or scare her."
"You're stupid."
"I've been told but since I'm the only one that's been able to keep her in a relationship longer than a few months, I think I'll be the authority on that."
I didn't have to see him to know that his teeth were bared a little in a somewhat protective and threatening manner. It was a reflex that happened every time I irritated him and I smiled a little in the knowledge that this small off-hand comment had stirred such a reaction in him.
As I heard my brother saying his goodbyes and Disapparating, I pushed myself around so I was leaning on the inside of the doorframe. Teddy was staring out of the window, drying the dishes in the rack as though he were working on automatic. I shuffled forwards and the sound of my feet on the ground startled him. He turned, placing the plate in his hand down and let me wrap my arms around him to whisper, "I love you," in his unsuspecting ear.
-::-
It wasn't a lie. I dolove him but now I can't quite see the line between loving him and being in love with him. It blurs around him in an ethereal mist.
It makes me think. He has always been there for me. He has pinned me down already. I have already spent four years of my life with him, in a routine that I don't know how to live without anymore. I try to think about what it was like before and the idea of being alone again, without having anyone to fall back on, terrifies me.
I watch him walk further and further away. He doesn't fade into the crowd. There is something that keeps drawing my eye to him amongst the dozens of other tall, brown-haired men with long black coats. Yet, as he gets further from me, the harder it is to watch him step away. I don't know if it is selfishness or true desire but I scream his name, unable to move from my spot.
He stops. His back stiffens like the body of an animal shot in the hunt. He twirls with an elegance that reminds me of his grandmother and looks at me. The grand finale bursts above our heads and the eyes of the public have left us. The bangs above are just an accompaniment to the silence that leads the orchestra surrounding the pair of us. His eyes glisten in the light of the angry red fireworks that crackle in the navy sky and I do not need to be close to see his tears.
I can't say it.
I cannot force the word out of my mouth but I can let the wind behind me force my head downwards into a subtle nod. I allow it to control me three times before holding myself still. I do not rush forward but I let him move towards me, a confused but enormous grin on his face that grows and grows until he's right in front of me.
The fireworks have died now. The last explosion haunts the air and once it has disappeared and the crowd disperses, jostling and knocking us on their way, he kisses me.
It is many things. It is sweet. It is urgent. It is almost perfect and it would be if I could ignore the ridges in my lips that do not quite fit his. We are not two halves of the same whole yet we complement each other and so, even though the night has ended in a manner so completely different from that which I had expected, I feel the tears stinging my eyes. I do not know, as he draws away from me, whether they are tears of regret and irritation or of a strange, unprecedented happiness but either way I let him hold me close in the arms that encircle me with that familiar, eerie perfection. I close my eyes and as he presses a kiss to the top of my head, I do not think of what I came here to do before. I think of what lies ahead: a future that was not expected but that is by no means unwelcome.
I realise, with a sad acceptance, that for me this is the end of the road I have followed for so many years but there is, somewhere, a turning. It bends sharply away from the straight path I am so familiar with and meanders up mountains with pot holes and ditches that can be filled in with words that I am not sure of yet but I know will be there one day.
You are only twenty-six, I remind myself firmly. The journey is far from over.
---
A/N: A huge thank you for this goes to the marvellous Marina who forced me into making this as good as it possibly could be [I know that might not be saying much, but still!]. She did a wonderful job as my beta for this and helped me with the title…a lot – ILY.
And to Lee – I hope you enjoyed it. Lots of love :)
Rachelle.
xx