A/N: It's been a while since I last wrote anything for this site. I hope you enjoy this fanfic as much as I enjoy writing it. Please R&R if you have the time!
Disclaimer: None of the characters depicted in this fanfic (except Clarice) belong to me - they are all products of J.K. Rowling's imagination.
LEAVE LOVE TO FATE
"Still up for that drink?" Montague's voice drifted up from the lower floor.
Marcus leaned shell-shocked against the door. Though he had always taunted her about finding him attractive, he hadn't expected tonight's events. Not at all.
"You alright?" Montague stood at the foot of the stairs, puffing on his cigarette.
Marcus wrinkled his nose at the smoke, "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"Well," Montague drawled, "You've never been one to refuse a drink."
Marcus laughed a little uneasily, her proposition still on his mind.
Montague frowned when he saw the look of unease flash across his friend's face. "What happened?" He asked, taking the cigarette out of his mouth slowly.
"Nothing."
"Right," Montague said disbelievingly, "Get down here."
Marcus closed his eyes tiredly but obeyed his demand. His feet felt heavy as he descended down the stairs. Maybe he did need a drink.
Montague took pity on him, slinging his free arm over his best friend's shoulder, "You'll feel better after a drink or two."
The two of them made their way to his study, where they immediately plopped down by the small bar.
"Very nice," Marcus always managed to admire the bar whenever he visited Montague's place.
"Thanks," Montague puffed on his cigarette.
"Mind putting that out?" Marcus grimaced as the scent of cigarette smoke hit his nostrils.
"Fine, fine," Montague rolled his eyes, "Waste of a good fag, though."
"I'm saving your lungs," Marcus replied.
"Whoever said I wanted them saved?" Montague asked lightly, pulling a bottle of whiskey down from its shelf.
Marcus rolled his eyes. It was impossible to elicit strong emotion from Montague at times. He dropped onto the leather seats by the shelves and looked around him. Little had changed since he first visited when he was a child.
"Want it straight? Or on ice?" Montague asked as he poured his own glass of alcohol.
"Ice, thanks," Marcus nodded at his friend in appreciation when he brought the glimmering gold glass to him.
"So what've you been up to lately?"
"Nothing, just business as usual," Marcus replied, sipping from his glass. The alcohol burnt pleasantly as it raced down his throat, "You?"
"Same old … renovating the house, looking for servants," Montague shrugged.
Marcus chuckled. Ever since the keeping of house elves had been banned, Montague had said he was looking for servants, but he had yet to find one. Marcus got the feeling that Montague enjoyed solitude.
"Just find yourself a wife to do all the cleaning for you."
"I think I'll stick with being a bachelor for now. It's an easier life."
Marcus nodded in agreement, "Wise decision, learn from your old friend's mistakes."
The two were silent for a moment, closing their eyes in appreciation as they downed their expensive drinks.
"Why Clarice?" Montague asked when he opened his eyes, "You can at least tell me that much, can't you?"
"Our mums were friends," Marcus said shortly, "We've been betrothed since we were children."
"Really?" Montague replied skeptically, "I don't recall you ever holding back in Hogwarts."
Marcus was silent, swirling the ice around his glass.
"Is it because your mum is in the hospital?"
Marcus scowled. Montague really didn't know a thing about subtleties, did he. "So what if it is?"
"Nothing, just wondering."
Marcus scowled at his friend's expression, "Like hell you were just wondering."
"I was just wondering … where your thing for Katie Bell comes in," Montague shrugged complacently.
Marcus jolted out of his seat angrily, "I don't have to take this from you. We may be friends, but there's an extent to what you can and cannot say to me."
"Oh come on, Marcus," Montague rolled his eyes, "Don't take things so incredibly seriously all the time."
Marcus drew in a shaky breath, controlling himself. All of the emotions he'd been suppressing seemed to be bubbling to the surface.
"Marcus," Montague placed his cold hand over his shaking one, "Calm down."
Marcus drew in another deep breath, his mind slowly clearing as he sunk back into his seat, "Sorry."
"It's fine," Montague replied sipping his drink, "I understand."
"Do you really?" Marcus turned anguished eyes at him, "Do you really understand how I feel?"
Montague laughed shortly, "I understand about your mum, at least. My parents are long dead, but it's not like I've forgotten the feeling."
Marcus winced as he remembered. Montague's parents had been brutally murdered, their bodies slashed to pieces during the war by other death eaters. Montague had seemingly recovered quickly, but the haunted look in his eyes had never really gone away, "Sorry," he muttered again.
"Like I said, it's fine," Montague leaned back into his chair, "I'm just looking out for you is all."
Marcus looked at Montague from the corner of his eye. His friend had always been the type to try to forestall fate. "You doing alright lately?" he asked quietly, the remains of his anger fading away.
"I dunno," Montague shrugged, "Nothing's really changed. Time's just passing on as usual."
Marcus rolled his eyes, "Always the mysterious one, aren't you Montague."
"What can I say," a slow smirk spread across Montague's lips, "It attracts the ladies."
Marcus rolled his eyes again, "What do you want me to say to that?"
Montague looked at him seriously, "Nothing, but I do want you to decide what you want in life. You're my best friend and hell if I'm going to let you marry a witch that is completely not right for you."
"How do you know she's not right for me?" Marcus protested.
"Do you enjoy having her around? Do you want to spend time with her? I can tell that you can barely stand to hear her talking. Just admit the woman's a complete air head."
"The sex is lovely," Marcus interjected indignantly.
"So? Sex is always lovely regardless of the woman," Montague replied dryly, "Seriously, Marcus, I don't get why you're in denial about your interest in Bell."
"Let's see: it's just a physical attraction, I'm in a relationship with Clarice right now, my mother would hate if I was with Bell, and lastly, there's no way in hell she would ever be interested in me."
Montague groaned at his excuses, draining the last of his drink. "Physical attraction since your school days? You took her bra, for Merlin's sake! Can't you see how incredibly stupidly you're acting? And don't give me these excuses about your mum – she's not at all elitist. And of course she would be interested if only you would treat her properly," he finished in exasperation.
"You really think so?" Marcus asked quietly, "You really think she would forget all of the things I did to her in school, to her friends?"
"I do," Montague said firmly, turning to the bar to refill his glass.
"You have too much faith in people, sometimes," Marcus said even more quietly, "And even if she did forgive and forget, do you think I could forget about it? Do you think her family and friends could forget about it?"
Montague sighed, holding his glass against his forehead, "I just don't want to see you going down the wrong lane, marrying someone you don't love. You know how our parents suffered."
Marcus gripped his shoulder then let go. "Thanks."
"No problem."
Though Montague had been attempting to comfort Marcus, Marcus felt far from comforted. His friend had merely caused more questions to spiral about his head. But perhaps that had been his intent – Montague had always been a nasty bastard in that way.
"Want to get some shut eye?"
"Can I ask you a question first?" Marcus looked at his friend seriously.
"Sure," Montague nodded, placing his glass in the bar's small sink.
"Why do you care so much for Bell if it's not romantic?"
Montague leaned against the marble counter and sighed heavily. "I just feel bad for her, dealing with that bastard Wood. And I know you like her. Besides, something about her makes me want to protect that spitfire nature of hers. I also owe Lee," he added as an afterthought.
Marcus snorted. The one time he had joined Lee and Montague for a couple of drinks had been disastrous. The three of them had ended up kicked out of a brothel that they had somehow stumbled into.
"Any other questions?" Montague raised an eyebrow expectantly.
"Not really, except … what were you talking about earlier when you said she was having enough of a rough time lately?"
Montague smirked, "Never thought you'd be one to remember fine details."
He stopped teasing when he saw Marcus' face darken. "Alright, alright. She just had a run in with Wood is all."
Marcus raised his eyebrows, "That's it?"
"How about we say it was a bad run-in … do you need it to be something more?" Montague asked as they left the room.
"Guess not," Marcus sighed.
"Are you planning on returning her bra anytime soon, by the way?" Montague raised his own eyebrows as he remembered what the drunken girl had mentioned to him earlier in the club.
Marcus snorted, "No way."
"Was it that kinky, Marcus?" Montague asked in dry curiosity.
"No, they were just Slytherin-styled," Marcus grinned as they walked up the polished stairs to the second storey.
"Nice," Montague grinned back in appreciation.
"Very," Marcus said quietly to himself as he passed her bedroom door, "Very."
