I had always kind of wondered how it was that people writing fanfics were constantly apologising for delays in their writing. I think I understand now. Sorry guys, I can make no promises. But I think I need to keep notes…
Chapter 4
"Well, don't bother to come back!" I shouted and slammed the door shut. I was breathing heavily and could practically feel my heart exploding from my chest. I leaned against the wall, rubbing my cheek with the back of my hand. A shaking hand, I noticed. From the other side of the door, I heard a sob, followed by a faint plopping noise. She was gone. There was no going back now. And I never even saw it coming, but I sank down against the wall and burst into tears.
Why? Why did she even come here? Not to make things right between us, obviously. Maybe she needed to have a final word in this, or maybe she wanted revenge. Maybe she just wanted to make sure that there was absolutely no way I was going to just give in. And I most certainly wasn't! I was not afraid of Mother, and I was not going to apologise just because she shouted at me for a few moments. I wiped the tears off my face, but it was no use – they just kept flowing. Stupid, stupid tears. Stupid family. Stupid work, and stupid Diana. I took a deep breath. I could still feel Mother's hand making contact with the left side of my face, when I called her… No, not important. The important thing was that she could not intimidate me. My fist hunch was to just burst into tears and apologise, like a frightened little boy, but fortunately, my intelligence took over before I did something as stupid as that. I had looked at her coldly and asked whether there were more things she would like to say. And I did not even blink when she raised her hand again. The smack never came, but instead, she started to cry. No, take deep breaths Perce. Not important. It didn't matter. She could cry all she wanted, but I was not going to apologise. Not about what I said, not about anything.
I rested my head in my hands, and my breathing slowly got steadier. For Merlin's sake, I was a grown man, I could handle a small problem like this. I had a job, a home, a relationship… Maybe I should get a cat. No reason to question my own independence, or my capacity to be successful in anything I initiated. I stared at my hands and dared them to start shaking once more. They did not. See, I could control the situation, and I could handle anything I was confronted with. No problem, not for me. Not for a Weasley… I screwed my eyes shut. It was merely a name… Weasley pride meant nothing, and I could live without them. No Weasley pride, but just me and Penny, and that should be enough. One more deep breath. Straighten my back, chin up, shoulders back. I stood up, leaning against the panelling on the wall. My legs felt strangely weak, probably due to the fact that I had hardly slept since yesterday morning. I should not have fallen asleep behind my desk. Maybe a short nap would do me good. But first…
I stood in the shower way too long. The warmth was calming, and the steam coming from the hot water cleared my throat and my nostrils. I had not even been aware that breathing had become so difficult after the sleep deprivation, the rain, the cold room and not a decent meal since breakfast the previous day. No wonder my body rioted against my decisions. I leaned against the tiled wall, which gradually turned warm. The smell of soap filled the small space, and it calmed me in a way I never thought it could have. Only when I thought I could no longer stand on my feet and would fall asleep in the middle of my small bathroom did I turn off the tap. A quick spell to dry myself rather than grabbing a towel. Soft, cotton pyjamas, and then straight to bed. Maybe I could get used to living on my own. It was nice not having to get out of the shower quickly to let an eager sibling take a turn. Closing the curtains with a flick of my wand, I rolled into bed and instantly got lost in a deep, warm, comforting sleep.
I woke up to loud bangs in the kitchen. Furniture being moved, pots and pans being thrown on top of each other, dishes clanging against each other. I closed my eyes again and listened, hoping it would soon stop and I would get a little more rest. But it continued, and I pulled my pillow over my head in an attempt to drown out the sound and get five more minutes of sleep. But awake is awake, and sleep would not come. It was turning dark, so I must have slept for hours, and I could hear the sounds of people walking the streets, looking for a bite to eat or a glass of mead. Happy people, free of the stress of a new life with new expectations and higher bars than only a few weeks ago. I longed to be one of them, and suddenly, I no longer felt tired. I was, however, incredibly hungry. But getting up and finding something to eat in the kitchen meant facing Diana, and I was not sure I could handle facing anybody.
A few more moments of pondering, and I had made my decision. My stomach was throwing a tantrum and my muscles ached to get up and move around a bit. I threw the heavy blanket off me and sat up, taking in the small room. It wasn't much, but it was clean and tidy, just the way I liked it. There was no mess lying around, except for the robe I had unceremoniously dumped on the chair. I swung my feet off the bed, feeling more relaxed than I had felt in days, maybe weeks. Rubbing my eyes, I picked up the robe and folded it neatly before placing it in the hamper. Laundry would come tomorrow.
I entered the kitchen in my pyjamas, pulling a jumper over my head. Diana was standing by the kitchen counter, balancing a pile of dirty dishes on a tray. She turned quickly when she heard my door open and started to violently that she almost dropped the tray, turning a bright shade of pink. "Oh, I didn't realise you had come home," she gasped. Putting down the tray, she put one hand on her forehead and summoned a chair from the far end of the kitchen, placing it by the table. I just stood there and stared.
I had planned to come in here and tell her exactly what I thought of the state the kitchen was in when I had come home earlier that day. I had planned to demand an apology, and promises for the future, and maybe a little remorse. But the kind gesture of pulling up a chair, along with her pink face and disarming clumsiness in her attitude, made me feel at loss for words. She was at least two years my senior, but she seemed so young just then, and I could not bring myself to get angry with her. Besides, if I was honest, most of my anger had disappeared while I was sleeping. Maybe the mess in the kitchen was one of those problems I could deal with, and maybe I could do so coolly.
"I'm sorry about the kitchen," she said, taking me by surprise. She went on at a quick pace: "You see, we had a practical exam today, and we had been up all night working on the case and when it was over, way after sunrise, we decided we should take a nap at Maxwell's place, and Elizabeth proposed to make biscuits afterwards, so we did, and we honestly needed to get drunk too, so there was no time to clean up the kitchen, and then everybody just got up and left and I didn't know what to do, so I was home later than I intended, but I thought you wouldn't be home as you had already left when I got home by the end of the morning, so I guess I thought… Well… Maybe I wasn't thinking. I Hope you're not terribly angry?"
I blinked, momentarily at loss for words. I did not understand one single bit of her story, but I didn't really want to ask stupid questions, so I nodded, sat down on the chair she offered me, and said quietly: "That's all right. Say, have you got any of those biscuits left?"